A 


A 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


THEORY  OF  TEACHING, 


WITH    A    FEW 


PRACTICAL  ILLUSTRATIONS 


BY    A    TEACHER 


THE  MORE  ONE  LOVES  THE  ART,  AND  INDEED  THE  BETTER  ONE  STUDIES  IT,  THE  LESS 
ONE  IS  SATISFIED.  THIS  MADE  TITIAN  WRITE  UNDER  HIS  PICTURES  fadebut,  SIG- 
NIFYING THAT  THEY  WERE  ONLY  IN  PROGRESS. — Nortlicote's  Conversations. 


BOSTON  : 

P.    PEA-BODY. 
1841. 


J,Zr 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1841,  by  E.  P.  PEA- 
BODY,  in  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


|S  N.  DICKINSON,  PRINTER, 
52  Washington  Street. 


Stack 


UB 

\037 


THESE  Letters  are  part  of  a  real  correspondence,  begun  in  order  to 
systematize  the  writer's  own  theory  and  practice.  The  position  of  gov- 
erness was  assumed  as  the  most  favorable  one  for  carrying  out  com- 
pletely her  ideas  on  education. 

In  the  humbler  walks  of  literature,  are  many  books  which  supply  to 
those  who  live  in  retirement  the  place  of  society,  by  freeing  them  from 
prejudice  and  inducing  thought.  Such  books  must  be  considered  as  the 
conversation  of  those  who  have  attended  to  a  particular  subject,  and 
therefore  valuable  to  others  who  are  ignorant  of  it.  It  is  as  one  of  thia 
class  that  the  present  correspondence  claims  for  itself  a  reading. 


4095GO 


LETTERS. 


i. 

MY  DEAR  MARY  : 

YOUR  letter  of  warning  and  expostulation  came  too  late  : 
the  fatal  step  is  already  taken  ;  I  am  a  ministering  servant 
in  the  house  of  another ;  expending  my  energies  for 
children  not  my  own ;  exposed  to  those  clashings  and 
misunderstandings  which  you  describe  as  more  fearful  than 
the  shock  of  war.  Yes,  I  am  a  governess,  and,  in  spite  of 
your  predictions,  hope  to  benefit  others  without  losing  my 
own  tranquillity.  Do  not  urge  upon  me  that  it  is  an  un- 
natural relation.  No  position  is  an  unnatural  one,  in  which 
we  can  be  of  use. 

'  Look  not  so  earnestly  on  me  as  if  my  fate  were  a  sad  one  — 
Joyfully  the  sister  her  brother  serves,  serves  also  her  elders ; 
Still  is  her  life  an  everlasting  going  and  coming, 
A  bearing  and  waiting,  preparing  and  toiling  for  others. 
Well  is  it  for  her  when  by  usage  no  way  is  too  weary, 
When  never  the  needle  seems  too  fine  nor  the  office  too  petty  ; 
And  the  long  hours  of  the  night  are  as  those  of  the  day-time  — 
Twenty  men  put  together  could  not  endure  all  her  troubles, 
Neither  shall  they  — yet  nevertheless  they  shall  see  and  be  thankful. 

All  we  wish  is  to  feel  that  we  have  not  lived  in  vain.  To 
serve  is  always  our  destiny  and  our  delight :  the  mode  of 
serving  we  can  sometimes  choose. 

Would  you  confine  us   to  the  few  original  relations  of 

children,  friends,  wives,  and  the  few  occupations  of  tending 

flocks  and  flowers  ?     No,  my  dear  Mary,  civilized  life,  with 

its  many  wants  and  many  needy  ones,  brings  new  stations, 

2* 


and  this  of  governess  seems  to  me  to  be  one  of  the  most 
simple  and  useful.  You  will  tell  me,  that  it  is  more  diffi- 
cult to  deal  with  persons  than  things  ;  that  in  this  more  com- 
plicated world  there  is  need  of  nicer  traits  of  character ; 
that  dignity,  delicacy,  reserve,  must  be  added  to  the  vir- 
tues which  are  sufficient  for  a  ruder  life  ;  that  more  prudence 
and  wisdom  are  needed  ;  for  the  great  world  is  obliged  to 
punish  many  errors  which  the  primitive  world  forgave. 

Do  not  urge  against  me  my  love  of  independence,  my 
decided  opinions,  my  ardor  of  character ;  these  shall  not 
be  monsters  erecting  their  ears,  and  bristling  at  every 
shadow  ;  I  will  smooth  their  shaggy  manes,  and  make  them 
strong  steeds  to  bear  me  over  every  obstacle. 

Seriously,  my  dear  Mary,  I  cannot  conceive  that  any  thing 
we  have  in  us  need  ever  be  a  stumbling-block.  The  gift 
never  comes  without  the  power  to  direct  it.  It  is  our 
wants,  our  short-comings  which  ruin  us.  You  will  find  that 
I  shall  walk  on  this  new  and  slippery  path  with  some  frights 
and  stumblings,  but  with  success,  for  I  have  a  guide  who 
never  fails ;  it  is  TRUTH.  If  I  am  faithful  to  my  ideas, 
loving  to  the  children,  open  as  noonday  with  their  parents, 
what  have  I  to  fear?  Are  we  not  everywhere  exposed  to 
the  faults  of  others  ?  And  is  not  this  a  sufficient  defence  ? 
But  how  can  I  speak  of  woman  as  needing  a  defence  ?  — 
has  she  not  in  her  sympathy  that  which  makes  the  danger  of 
personal  clashing  disappear  ?  When  the  old  are  rigid  with 
me,  I  will  remember  by  what  cruel  teachings  such  opinions 
have  been  forced  upon  them  ;  when  the  young  disappoint 
and  thwart  me,  I  will  remember  they  know  not  what  they 
strive  against.  When  I  see  any  thing  that  I  cannot  ap- 
prove, I  will  suspend  my  judgment  until  I  see  the  heart  and 
circumstances  of  the  sinner. 

As  we  grow  older  our  sympathy  flows  less  readily,  but 
it  embraces  a  wider  field  :  if  this  and  justice  and  sincerity 
will  not  bear  me  safely  on,  they  may  fold  their  celestial 
wings,  and  I  will  henceforth  trudge  along  the  highways  of 
prudence  and  expediency. 

It  will  be  strange  indeed,  if  my  love  of  independence 
harm  me,  for  it  is  that  which  has  suggested  this  course.  I 
am  aware  that  in  seeking  my  own  support,  I  offer  spirit- 


ual  for  temporal  things,  and  it  is  a  barter  in  which  the  del- 
icacy and  the  loss  are  oftenest  on  the  wrong  side.  But  I 
think  we  owe  it  to  the  spiritual  services  to  assert  their  real 
worth  ;  and  having  fixed  this  in  my  own  opinion,  I  shall 
feel  no  delicacy  in  receiving  an  equivalent.  At  any  rate, 
the  unpleasantness  would  exist  in  any  other  mode  of  earn- 
ing a  living  ;  and  here,  the  love  of  all  around  me  will  soften 
it  as  much  as  possible. 

I  need  not  tell  you  how  wise,  tender,  and  considerate,  is 
Mr.  O.,  nor  how  sweet  and  loving  is  his  gentle  wife ;  nat- 
urally charming,  their  love  for  each  other  has  brought  their 
characters  almost  to  perfection.  You  know  them  by  my 
frequent  description  ;  but  I  must  tell  you,  that  to  the  love 
I  have  always  felt  for  his  character,  is  added  the  strongest 
gratitude  for  his  kindness  to  me.  How  delightful  it  is  to 
receive  kindness  from  those  whose  qualities  we  admired  be- 
fore !  It  sanctions  our  affection,  and  gives  us  a  right  to  turn 
upon  our  benefactor  the  unsatisfied  love  which  followed 
distant  and  strange  virtues.  This  friend  is  rich  in  blessings  j 
he  wants  nothing ;  I  can  give  him  nothing  :  but  by  devot- 
ing myself  to  his  children  I  can  show  him  that  his  kindness 
was  bestowed  on  no  insensible  heart ;  and  if  love  and  grat- 
itude can  enlighten,  I  shall  be  the  wisest  teacher  on  earth. 

How  much  do  I  now  regret  that  I  never  took  a  more 
active  and  particular  interest  in  your  school  ! 

The  education  both  of  old  and  young  has  always  been 
my  hobby  ;  indeed,  life  always  appears  to  me  as  an  educa- 
tion, and  is  more  interesting  in  this  view  of  it,  than  in  any 
other.  I  have  thought  and  talked  enough  about  education, 
quite  to  weary  friends  who  took  no  particular  interest  in  it, 
and  I  had  a  general  idea  of  what  was  most  desirable  to  be 
obtained,  and  how  to  obtain  it.  I  have  been  with  children 
sufficiently  to  know  also  how  much  they  can  do,  and  what 
treatment  they  require.  But  this  knowledge  has  only  been 
elaborated  in  my  private  workshop,  for  my  own  particular 
use,  to  suit  my  own  taste  and  position  ;  it  should  be  cor- 
rected by  experience  and  a  wider  knowledge,  before  it  can 
be  applied  to  other  cases. 

I  might  have  enriched  myself  with  all  your  stores  of  wis- 
dom and  experience,  had  I  anticipated  a  necessity  for  them. 


8 

How  many  such  past  opportunities  do  I  now  recal  with  re- 
gret !  When  will  philosophers  and  world-reformers,  strik- 
ing off  the  trammels  of  frivolity  and  false  opinion,  leave 
the  mind  free  to  embrace  all  which  is  truly  noble  and  im- 
portant ;  to  live  simply,  and  draw  to  itself  all  knowledge ; 
not  feel  bound  by  necessity  to  seek  only  that  which  an  im- 
mediate purpose  requires  ? 

I  have  done  all  I  could  to  make  room  in  my  vessel  —  all 
undue  love  of  dress,  all  indecisions,  scruples,  speculations 
about  others,  went  overboard  long  ago.  But  the  common 
claims  of  life,  necessary  cares,  and  the  "  Virtue  next  to 
Godliness,"  occupy  so  much  room,  that  the  better  part  of 
my  cargo  is  quite  straitened,  and  sometimes  pushed  out 
of  sight.  From  all  these  evils  and  burdens,  which  I  have 
thrown  off  one  by  one,  I  wish  to  keep  my  pupils  free.  I 
will  do  all  I  can  to  make  innocence  still  the  basis  of  their 
virtue ;  let  me  do  my  utmost,  their  own  weakness  and 
blindness  will  prepare  enough  of  trials  and  discipline. 
You  will  say  it  is  the  delusive  hope  which  inspires  each 
generation.  Be  it  so  ;  but  we  fall  short  of  our  duty,  if  the 
consideration  that  we  cannot  cure  all  evil  prevents  our  striv- 
ing against  that  which  is  nearest. 

They  shall  know  evil,  if  you  will  allow  me  the  Irishism, 
only  as  a  thing  unknown.  I  will  keep  far  from  them  all 
evil  in  morals,  all  great  mistakes  in  conduct,  all  wanderings 
and  excesses  of  the  feelings.  This  is  all  I  shall  do  ;  I  will 
not  control,  and  tutor,  and  dictate,  but  keep  away  all  that 
is  harmful,  supply  ample  nutriment  to  heart,  intellect, 
and  the  organs,  and  let  them  unfold  in  their  own  lovely 
proportions.  I  do  not  expect,  by  doing  so  much  for  them, 
to  obviate  the  necessity  of  self-education.  1  mean  only  to 
carry  them  as  far  as  another  can  ;  and  from  this  vantage- 
ground  must  begin  self-education ;  which  alone  secures 
peace  and  strength. 

Nor  is  self-education  to  be  deferred  until  my  work  is  done. 
One  of  the  first  demands  I  shall  make  upon  them,  will  be 
to  build  themselves.  The  obligation  they  are  under  to 
their  Creator  to  do  this,  will  be  the  corner-stone  of  their 
characters :  they  can  feel  this  as  soon  as  they  know  that 
He  has  made  and  loves  them  ;  they  will  feel  it  more  strong- 


9 

ly  as  they  learn  the  wonder.3  of  His  universe,  of  the  world 
within,  and  of  His  moral  government.  They  will  be  ashamed 
to  fall  short  in  so  noble  a  universe  ;  they  will  love  to  chime  in 
with  others  ;  they  will  be  grateful  for  their  will  left  free,  "not 
fast  in  fate;"  and  having  once  known  the  delight  of  acting 
in  accordance  with  His  laws,  will  value  it  beyond  all  others. 

I  shall  aid  them  in  educating  themselves  morally,  by  mak- 
ing them  feel  their  faults  and  deficiencies  ;  by  keeping  alive 
their  sensibility,  and  directing  it  to  these  faults,  making 
it  the  living  and  renewing  power,  and  spring  of  action. 
But  I  shall  make  them  feel  that  I  can  only  point  the  way  ; 
that  the  decision  rests  with  themselves ;  that  by  their  own 
effort  they  stand  or  fall. 

I  shall  throw  them  back  on  themselves,  not  only  in  their 
moral  but  in  their  intellectual  education  ;  while  at  the  same 
time  I  shall  aid  them  most  abundantly,  making  always  this 
provision,  that  I  will  do  a  vast  deal  for  them,  but  they  must 
do  more  for  themselves. 

But  here  you  will  say,  I  am  giving  you  a  proof  of  my 
ignorance  of  the  world,  by  disposing  thus  summarily  of 
another  person's  children  ;  you  think  I  shall  find  myself 
held  down,  as  Gulliver  was,  by  the  myriad  Lilliputian  bands 
of  conventionalism  and  petty  difference.  Well,  we  shall 
see.  Mrs.  O.  is  the  most  modest  and  yielding  of  women. 
Her  aims  are  high,  her  taste  refined,  her  confidence  in  me 
firm ;  she  will  cooperate  and  sympathize  in  all  my  plans, 
and  I  shall  be  well  pleased  to  take  counsel  of  her  superior 
age  and  matronly  experience. 

The  two  elder  girls,  Mary  and  Sophia,  are  ten  and  twelve 
years  of  age ;  then  there  are  two  boys,  now  absent,  and  two 
little  things  of  three  and  four,  who  fall  also  under  my  care. 

Oh,  how  many  questions  I  should  ask,  if  I  had  you  at 
my  elbow;  questions  which  I  now  revolve  and  discuss  with 
my  inexperienced  self,  wandering  vviih  careless  eyes  along 
this  lovely  river.  You  will  think  1  am  indeed  absorbed, 
when  1  have  written  you  four  pages  from  the  banks  of  the 
Connecticut,  without  one  description  or  ecstacy.  Yes,  my 
dear  Mary,  places  have  lost  their  hold  on  me;  persons 
carry  me  off  blindfold  ;  persons,  and  how  to  benefit  them, 
form  my  present  world. 


10 


1 

I  AM  sure  of  a  sympathetic  listener  in  you,  my  dear 
Mary,  so  I  will  not  wait  for  an  answer  to  my  last  letter. 
This  charming  June  weather  has  been  devoted  to  making 
acquaintance  with  our  new  home  ;  and  now  that  we  have 
ranged  every  hill  and  valley  within  ken,  we  are  turning  our 
eyes  on  each  other,  with  somewhat  of  the  interest  ship- 
mates feel  at  the  beginning  of  a  long  voyage. 

I  have  conversed  much  with  Mrs.  O.,  and  she  has  de- 
tailed to  me  all  her  desires  and  views.  Her  health  is,  you 
know,  delicate,  and  the  entire  charge  of  her  children's  ed- 
ucation would  be  too  heavy  for  her,  and  would  take  her  off 
too  much  from  other  duties.  She  wished,  therefore,  to  re- 
ceive some  person  into  her  family,  who  would  be  as  far  as 
possible  another  self.  She  is  not  so  unreasonable  as  to 
expect  from  this  stranger  the  zeal  and  forbearance  of  a 
mother  ;  but  she  expects  certain  qualities  which  fit  her  pe- 
culiarly to  preside  over  some  parts  of  the  education.  She 
cannot  resign  the  sacred  duty  of  forming  their  characters, 
of  presiding  over  their  sentiments  and  lesser  morals ;  but 
she  is  willing  to  confide  their  intellectual  education  to  other 
hands.  Their  religious  and  human  feelings,  their  virtues, 
their  lovely  qualities,  can  be  brought  out  only  in  social  and 
home  life,  by  the  influences  around  them.  Being  unable 
to  bear  the  whole  burden,  she  has  set  apart  their  intellec- 
tual culture  for  my  share ;  and  though  I  shall  seize,  like 
herself,  every  opportunity  to  cultivate  their  feelings  and 
their  characters,  my  object  is  to  be  the  unfolding  of  their 
intellects  in  a  natural  manner,  the  putting  them  in  full  pos- 
session of  their  intellectual  strength,  whatever  it  may  be, 
and  the  supplying  to  them  in  each  stage  the  nutriment 
most  suitable  and  abundant. 

Mrs.  O.  was  surprised  to  find  that  I  by  no  means  gave 
supremacy  to  the  intellect  in  my  valuation  of  what  was 
desirable  in  women.  She  began  even  to  be  alarmed  lest  I 
should  not  treat  this  secondary  power  with  sufficient 
respect ;  but  I  assured  her,  not  CaBsar  less,  but  Rome 
more  ;  if  she  would  only  wait  and  see  my  demands  and 
estimates  of  what  might  be  accomplished,  she  would  see 


that  I  served  the  intellect  more  devotedly,  viewing  it 
as  the  enlightener  and  guard  of  the  feelings,  than  those  do 
who  give  it  the  first  place. 

I  am  delighted  to  find  our  views  so  nearly  alike.  We 
do  not  absolutely  differ  on  any  subject,  though  there  are 
some  which  appear  to  me  extremely  important,  which  she 
had  never  attended  to  ;  and  some  on  which  she  laid  great 
stress,  I  had  thought  rather  to  interfere  with  a  free  devel- 
opement.  For  instance,  she  values  very  highly  the  influ- 
ence of  the  slighter  social  duties  performed  from  a  high 
motive  ;  because  they  often  keep  the  heart  open,  are  a  dis- 
cipline to  selfishness,  and  preserve  from  morbidness  and 
other  evils.  She  values  also  polished  manners,  taste  in 
dress,  and  sundry  little  conventionalisms,  which  I  had 
always  regarded  as  drawbacks  to  progress.  She  con- 
siders every  conventionalism  as  arising  from  the  general 
experience ;  freedom  was  found  dangerous,  and  society, 
aware  of  its  weakness  or  its  liability  to  overlook,  erected 
this  conventionalism  as  a  barricado  and  memento  to  itself. 
I  agree  with  her  as  to  the  origin  of  these  conventionalisms, 
and  have  no  doubt  that  in  each  society  are  some  persons  to 
whom  each  barricado  is  necessary.  But  cannot  such  re- 
tire, each  to  the  guarded  ground  he  requires  ?  Must 
the  whole  race  be  fenced  in,  and  each  one  wear  the  fet- 
ters of  all  ?  Cannot  each  voluntarily  observe  those  de- 
manded by  his  situation  and  character  ? 

She  thinks  it  so  necessary  to  the  growth  of  generosity 
and  an  amiable  disposition,  that  the  social  nature  should  be 
constantly  exercised,  that  she  is  not  willing  her  children 
should  be  educated  alone.  She  said  with  great  feeling, 
that  the  more  we  should  do  for  them,  the  greater  would  be 
their  peril ;  that  the  human  heart  could  not  receive  too 
much  devotion  without  closing  and  turning  to  stone ;  that 
even  a  mother's  love  'may  be  fatal,  when  not  counteracted 
by  other  influences.  She  meant,  therefore,  to  select  ten  or 
twelve  little  girls  from  a  neighboring  village,  and  let  them 
be  schoolmates  and  friends  of  her  children.  So  you  see, 
my  dear  Mary,  I  have  need  of  your  instructions  at  once  ;  for 
I  imagine,  in  teaching,  the  difficulties  increase  in  proportion 
to  the  scholars. 


12 

Mrs.  O.  has  another  reason  for  cultivating  the  social 
nature.  She  regards  it  as  a  haven  of  rest  for  woman. 
She  has  very  sad  feelings  about  the  destiny  of  women 
- — looks  upon  her  daughters  as  destined  to  suffer  —  and 
whenever  she  sees  any  thing  they  can  lay  hold  of  to 
shelter  themselves  from  the  storms  of  life,  wishes  to  cherish 
it  and  make  the  most  of  it.  I  approve  of  cultivating  the 
social  affections  for  a  different  reason.  The  germ  of  them 
exists,  and  we  have  no  right  to  blight  it.  Natural  religion 
tells  us  that  each  created  being  has  its  special  claim  upon 
us.  The  divine  law  says,  love  your  brother — .not  love 
qualities  merely,  but  your  brother.  The  only  difficulty  is 
in  fixing  the  limits  of  this  claim  ;  in  deciding  to  how  much 
of  our  time  others  not  very  near  to  us  have  a  right.  This 
question  each  mother  must  decide  according  to  her  circum- 
stances and  valuation  for  her  children,  and  each  child,  as 
she  begins  to  reflect,  can  ratify  or  reverse  that  decision. 
Mrs.  O.  has  decided  for  her  children.  She  knows  that 
they  would  learn  more,  had  they  all  my  care  ;  but  she  pre- 
fers that  their  studies  should  be  shared  with  girls  of  their 
own  age,  and  that  part  of  the  school-hours  should  be  passed 
in  learning  to  love  their  fellow-creatures. 

But  I  have  not  yet  made  you  acquainted  with  my  little 
pupils.  They  are  too  lovely  to  be  slighted  :  yet  I  shall  say 
very  little  about  them,  for  I  have  no  penetration  into  charac- 
ter;  I  believe  I  am  too  credulous;  I  meditate,  and  analyze, 
and  comprehend  all  that  people  tell  me  about  themselves, 
but  I  never  get  at  that  part  of  them  which  is  not  manifested 
in  decided  action  or  revealed  to  me.  Hence  I  never  feel 
that  I  know  the  whole  of  any  character.  But  perhaps  with 
these  simple  natures  I  may  get  along  better.  I  am  very 
sympathetic,  and  never  forget  anything  I  have  observed  in 
others ;  so  as  far  as  experience  goes  I  shall  understand 
them  :  but  I  dread  meeting  an  incomprehensible  one  —  for 
without  understanding  we  cannot  sympathize  ;  without  sym- 
pathy we  can  exert  no  living  influence,  but  must  take  refuge 
in  the  dead  weight  of  authority.  I  would  have  our  inter- 
course all  electric ;  one  shall  understand  before  the  other 
speaks.  A  glance,  a  change  of  expression,  shall  be  enough. 


13 

We  will  love  each  other  so  much,  we  shall  need  no  speech. 
How  can  we  help  loving  each  other !  I  shall  have  ever 
before  me  their  fresh  young  spirits,  drinking  in  eternal 
truths.  I  shall  see  the  color  mounting  to  their  brows,  the 
eyes  sparkling  as  a  thought  or  emotion  kindles  them  for  the 
first  time.  FIRST  TIME  !  Oh  mysterious  charrn  !  charm, 
belonging  perhaps  to  our  finite  nature,  yet  so  sweet  that 
we  shall  resign  it  with  regret.  I  am  almost  reconciled  to 
the  fleetingness  of  earth's  blessings,  because  connected 
with  it,  is  this  delight  of  feeling,  of  knowing  for  the  first 
time.  With  what  sad  and  mysterious  interest  does  one 
who  has  suffered  much,  watch  the  delight  of  youih  in  the 
intense  life  which  each  new  object  excites  !  They  think 
that  each  fountain  will  be  always  in  like  degree  a  well- 
spring  of  delight.  We  know  that  never  again  are  its 
waters  sweet  and  life-giving  as  that  once,  but  that  the  in- 
finite seeker  must  lose  his  sense  of  disappointment  by  pres- 
sing on  to  other  fountains,  and  then  again  in  the  distance 
memory  may  invest  this  with  a  new  charm.  Who  can 
ever  forget  the  delight  with  which  his  weak  childish  fancy 
revelled  in  descriptions  of  people  and  countries  all  unknown  : 
or  with  what  pain  it  rose  to  conceive  of  some  law  of  the 
universe,  and  with  what  sober  delight  it  held  it  fast  when 
once  comprehended  !  Let  us  recal  the  moments  most  deep- 
ly impressed  upon  us,  which  have  ruled  our  whole  life  ;  the 
moment  when  we  suddenly  compassionated,  loved,  or 
admired  ;  when  through  our  love,  or  intellect,  as  in  a 
momentary  flash,  we  were  aware  of  feelings,  duties,  ex- 
istences all  around  us,  unsuspected  before;  when  we  were 
lifted  above  our  past  world,  and  saw  new  regions  before  us, 
and  a  heavenly  light  to  guide  us  therein.  Then  slight 
not  the  charm  of  ihe  first  time  — it  has  a  deeper  meaning  — 
it  is  proof,  almost  certain,  that  the  swelling  soul  bursts  her 
old  limits,  and  by  this  token  celebrates  her  triumph. 

This  pleasure,  which  I  could  in  each  case  experience  but 
once,  I  shall  see  and  sympathize  with  again  and  again. 
And  how  I  shall  love  to  introduce  them  to  each  temple 
through  the  noblest  vestibule  !  I  shall  make  time,  place, 
and  mood,  fitting  ;  I  shall  keep  off  all  trifling  interruptions 
and  associations,  and  introduce  them  to  the  wonders  of  cre- 
2 


14 

ation  with  a  fit  solemnity.  How  ludicrous  and  how  tire- 
some have  I  known  the  most  important  subjects  and  the 
finest  authors  to  be  to  girls,  merely  because  they  had  stud- 
ied them  in  circumstances  unworthy  of  them — defaced  by 
absurd  illustrations  or  their  own  wretched  blunders.  I  will 
try  to  have  all  in  keeping;  if  I  am  about  to  set  forth  the 
wondrous  courses  of  the  heavenly  orbs,  I  will  inspire  a  feel- 
ing of  their  vastness,  of  their  unerring  harmony,  of  the 
mighty  wisdom  which  created  and  animates  them.  I  shall 
myself  be  penetrated  with  my  subject,  and  I  shall  not  ap- 
proach it  as  a  mere  lesson  to  be  learned. 

But  I  am  running  away  from  my  little  pupils.  I  will 
tell  you  all  I  have  yet  discovered  about  them,  that  you  may 
shape  your  advice  accordingly.  Emily,  the  eldest,  has  an 
expression  of  great  sensibility,  and  a  fine  and  delicate  in- 
tellect, imagination,  and  a  most  sympathetic  and  compas- 
sionate disposition.  She  has  great  vivacity,  and  I  suspect 
a  hastiness  of  character,  which  often  leads  her  into  error. 
She  has  a  charm  of  manner  very  attractive  to  her  compan- 
ions, and  a  consciousness  of  it,  which  has  slightly  injured 
her  simplicity. 

Sophia  has  a  very  different  manner  and  expression.  So- 
ber, dignified,  complete,  she  seems  to  stand  alone,  and 
challenge  neither  admiration  nor  affection.  Her  brow  and 
head  would  attract  the  phrenologist  rather  than  the  lover 
of  beauty.  Her  complexion  of  sober  brown  disdains  to 
borrow  from  dress  or  circumstance  ;  no  vivid  beams  dart 
from  her  eyes,  no  smiles  or  woman's  witcheries  dwell  on  her 
lips.  She  has  not  the  sensibility  of  Emily,  but  perhaps 
quite  as  quick  and  nice  perceptions,  only,  from  dignity 
of  character,  not  expressed.  It  is  a  very  rich  face,  and  the 
strongest  feelings  are  there ;  but  I  do  not  love  it  at  first 
sight,  like  the  other. 

The  little  girls,  Gary  and  Lucy,  are  the  pets  of  the  fam- 
ily, and  young  even  for  their  years.  Gary  seems  a  nota- 
ble, brisk  little  person,  one  who  will  choose  something  above 
mediocrity  in  all  she  undertakes.  Lucy  seems  tender,  con- 
fiding, of  more  changeable  spirits,  and  of  a  nature  some- 
times indolent  and  feeble,  sometimes  bursting  forth  in  mighty 
undertakings.  I  infer  this,  because  she  wishes  to  do  all 


15 

that  Gary  does;  and  as  Gary  is  a  remarkably  smart,  active 
little  body,  who  keeps  an  eye  on  every  thing,  and  takes  her 
share  whether  in  business  or  pleasure,  little  Lucy  is  some- 
times left  in  the  rear.  She  has  daily  proofs  that  she  can- 
not do  so  much  as  her  elder  sister,  but  they  seem  all  to  be 
lost  on  her.  A  burst  of  tears  follows  each  trial,  but  she 
does  not  learn  from  it  to  limit  her  undertakings:  the  next 
morning  brings  the  same  round  of  vehement  desires,  short- 
lived attempts,  and  bitter  disappointments.  It  is  shocking 
to  see  so  many  tears  lavished  on  causes  so  unworthy  ;  the 
child's  sensibility  will  be  wholly  worn  out,  and  a  passionate 
violence  take  its  place.  I  kiss  away  her  tears,  and  tell  her 
they  are  far  too  precious  to  be  shed  because  her  basket  is 
not  full  of  weeds  so  soon  as  Gary's,  because  her  lilac  chain 
will  not  keep  its  fragile  round,  because  her  hoop  does  not 
obey  her  feeble  hand.  I  ask  her  how  she  will  bear  the 
certain  troubles  of  life,  such  as  losing  her  pretty  chickens, 
sickness  or  accident,  seeing  her  sisters  and  others  suffer, 
being  parted  from  her  friends,  if  she  sheds  tears  on  such 
trifling  occasions.  Once  I  took  the  opportunity  of  her 
seeing  a  little  ragged  child,  whose  countenance  bespoke  its 
sufferings,  even  to  the  youngest  eye,  to  speak  of  the  child's 
condition  and  sufferings,  of  her  ignorance,  and  the  terrible 
fear  that  she  might  have  no  one  to  teach  her  to  be  good; 
and  when  she  was  very  much  touched,  I  said,  "  Let  your 
tears  flow  for  this,  Lucy;  this  is  a  deeper  grief  than  a 
fallen  hoop  or  a  task  unperformed."  I  said  no  more.  I 
saw  she  felt  the  difference  between  the  tears  of  pure  com- 
passion and  those  mixed  with  vexation  and  shed  for  trifles. 
But  her  conduct  was  injuring  her  character  in  another  way. 
To  fall  short  once,  ever  so  little,  weakens  the  character, 
just  as  much  as  to  strive  and  accomplish,  in  an  instance 
ever  so  small,  strengthens  it.  It  is  what  no  one  must  allow 
in  herself  who  aims  at  being  or  doing  much  ;  for  the  next 
lime  more  effort  is  required  to  reach  the  mark,  and  there 
is  less  probability  of  reaching  it  ;  another  failure  ensues, 
we  become  contented  with  half  doing;  we  bring  our  aims 
down  to  what  we  can  do  easily,  instead  of  stretching  our 
capacities  to  the  utmost ;  progress  is  at  an  end.  Lucy  is  too 
young  yet  to  perceive  fully  the  evils  of  this ;  I  show  them  to 


16 

her  whenever  I  think  she  can  perceive  them  ;  but  for  the 
most  part  I  shall  engage  her  in  other  pursuits,  and  by  turn- 
ing her  sensibility  to  natural  and  safe  objects,  free  it  from 
this  dangerous  combination  with  pride  and  passion. 

The  feelings  of  childhood  are  almost  our  sole  recollec- 
tions of  it.  How  sad  it  would  be  if  all  the  feelings  Lucy 
could  recal,  were  those  of  passionate  grief  and  disappoint- 
ment. I  fancy  J  must  substitute  habits  with  her  in  the 
place  of  old  faults,  without  telling  her  the  reason.  I  should 
fear  exciting  her  if  I  touched  upon  the  subject.  I  would 
rather  let  the  changes  occur  as  something  springing  from 
my  arrangements,  not  made  with  special  reference  to  her. 

With  Gary  I  shall  pursue  a  different  course.  I  shall 
explain  every  thing  to  her  —  tell  her  why  such  a  course  is 
best  for  her  —  make  her  a  partner  of  my  counsels,  and  hav- 
ing convinced  her  understanding,  the  change  will  soon  fol- 
low. She  surpasses  Lucy  so  much  in  all  common  affairs,  that 
I  am  anxious  to  find  something  in  which  Lucy  excels  her. 
I  dread  this  constant  superiority  ;  none  but  the  noblest  souls 
can  bear  it.  It  is  often  felt  by  those  who  surpass  in  quantity 
rather  than  quality  ;  because  quantity  is  immediately  per- 
ceived, but  when  we  are  surpassed  in  quality  we  have  no 
conception  of  what  is  beyond  us.  Persons  of  energy  and 
understanding  are  most  liable  to  this  fault ;  they  know  not 
the  upper  regions,  and  getting  along  remarkably  well  on 
this  lower  earth,  they  get  a  high  sense  of  their  own  pow- 
ers, and  of  course  do  not  know  themselves.  I  have  intro- 
duced you  to  my  pupils  at  home,  dear  Mary ;  in  my  next  I 
shall  give  an  account  of  the  school.  Be  not  sparing  of 
your  counsels,  and  do  not  think  whether  they  hit  the  pres- 
ent mark  or  not.  Of  experience  there  can  never  be  too 
much,  and  I  am  not  so  silly  as  to  reject  all  knowledge  not 
immediately  required. 


III. 
MY  DEAR  MART  : 

I  HAVE  been  a  month  in  my  school-room,  and  feel  as  if  I 
had  already  the  experience  of  years.  I  should  have  writ- 
ten to  you  at  the  end  of  the  first  week,  but  I  knew  you 


17 

would  laugh  at  hearing  me  use  the  words  (i  I  always  "  and 
"I  have"  so  freely.  Now  that  I  have  presided  there  so 
long,  I  think  I  have  some  right  to  bring  forward  my  modes 
and  my  experience  —  so  here  you  have  them,  as  you  de- 
sire, from  the  beginning. 

In  the  first  place,  let  me  tell  you  how  favored  I  am  in 
the  room  which  Mr.  O.  has  set  apart  for  my  use.  It  is  the 
western  wing  of  the  house,  large,  airy,  with  windows  open- 
ing on  a  lawn.  No  living  creatures  are  in  sight,  no  sounds, 
nor  variety  of  objects,  distract  the  attention.  Wandering 
eyes  behold  only  the  dewy  grass  and  the  deep  shade  of  the 
trees  upon  the  lawn.  Around  us  is  the  repose  of  nature, 
suggesting  and  inducing  that  repose  of  character,  which  I 
have  often  told  you  is  to  me  the  seal  and  sign  of  its  highest 
perfection. 

As  we  are  far  from  the  city  and  all  public  collections, 
Mr.  O.  has  selected  from  his  library  such  maps,  casts,  por- 
traits and  books  as  will  aid  me  in  imparting  information; 
and  every  question  which  comes  up  is  settled  on  the  spot 
by  reference  to  these,  and  by  following  it  up  until  we  are 
satisfied.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  to  you,  that  with 
the  rod,  I  have  discarded  the  ancient  pretension  to  infalli- 
bility. I  let  my  scholars  see  me  as  I  am — a  student  in 
advance  of  them,  more  zealous  and  devoted,  and  knowing 
better  where  to  seek  what  I  need  ;  but  still  a  learner,  aware 
of  my  own  deficiencies,  and  not  ashamed  to  acknowledge 
them.  I  must  not  omit  the  black-board  which  graces  one 
side  of  my  room,  most  pliant  conveyer  of  all  sorts  of  in- 
struction to  all  sorts  of  minds,  and  even  to  the  senses  when 
the  mind  seems  locked  up.  Directly  in  front  of  it  I  sit, 
and  opposite  me,  each  in  her  separate  desk,  my  dozen  pu- 
pils. I  know  you  disapprove  of  these  separate  desks,  as 
leading  to  selfishness  and  quarrels ;  but  as  my  pupils  are 
chiefly  over  ten,  there  is  less  danger  of  this,  and  some  use- 
ful lessons  may  be  learned,  in  keeping  them  neat  and  or- 
derly, and  arranging  the  books  conveniently.  There  is  a 
little  germ  of  housewifery  in  every  girl,  which  is  pleased  by 
convenient  arrangements,  and  displeased  by  slatternly,  in- 
competent ones ;  and  this,  school  education  should  foster 
as  far  as  possible.  There  is  another  more  important  feel- 
2* 


18 

ing  in  their  little  bosoms :  even  the  youngest  child  loves  to 
have  a  sanctum  —  a  place  to  which  she  can  retire  and  keep 
her  treasures,  and  which  no  one  can  invade.  Unless  she  has  a 
place  to  keep  her  treasures,  she  feels  that  she  has  no  proper- 
ty ;  if  she  does  not  by  herself  owning  something  get  an  idea 
of  property,  she  will  never  understand  or  respect  the  rights 
of  others.  As  a  regard  for  the  rights  of  others  is  so  large  a 
part  of  morality,  ought  we  to  neglect  enforcing  their  rights 
in  actual  things  ?  By  enforcing  them  do  we  not  make  the 
child  alive  to  their  claims  on  our  time,  our  services,  our 
hearts  ?  Believe  me,  we  cannot  even  from  the  cradle  en- 
force too  rigidly  the  meum  and  the  tuum.  I  have  always  been 
in  the  habit  of  insisting  on  them  equally  ;  and  after  a  child 
perceives  fully  that  a  thing  is  his  own,  I  say,  "  It  is  yours 
to  keep  or  to  give  away  —  you  have  full  power  over  it: 
how  happy  you  are  in  owning  something,  and  thus  having 
a  right  to  give!  now  you  may  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  true 
generosity."  I  have  a  contempt  for  that  indiscriminate, 
unreflecting  ease  of  disposition,  which  gives  away  all  it 
lays  its  hands  upon,  whether  its  own  or  another's.  The 
true  and  high,  considerate,  generosity  exists  only  in  persons 
who  have  a  nice  sense  of  rights,  property,  and  feelings, 
their  own  as  well  as  others  ;  and  a  service  from  such,  calls 
forth  far  deeper  gratitude,  than  the  same  rendered  by  a 
thoughtless,  lavish  peison. 

There  is  one  trait  in  my  children  which  is  very  pleasing, 
and  1  cannot  bear  to  check  it,  but  I  am  afraid  it  will  absorb 
too  much  of  my  time  if  allowed.  I  have  told  you  that  I 
cannot  help  knowing  precisely  what  each  one  is  doing  and 
feeling ;  my  eyes  meet  theirs  constantly,  and  they  are 
very  much  pleased  with  this  sympathy,  and  express  it  in 
words.  Each  moment  one  or  another  looks  up  with  full 
confidence  of  sympathy,  and  says  :  "  I  've  been  studying 
very  hard,  Miss ;  I  guess  I  shall  recite  well,"  or  com- 
municates some  other  little  item  of  the  sort.  It  is  right 
that  these  little  facts  should  interest  them,  for  of  them  is  the 
tissue  of  their  education  woven  ;  and  I  would  not  be  \s- 

'  O 

norant  of  them,  for  it  is  only  by  these  little  facts  that  I  can 
be  sure  to  know  the  whole,  and  only  by  influencing  them 
in  these  that  I  can  influence  them  in  the  end.  If  I 


19 

enter  into  every  little  occurrence,  I  must  exert  in  each  a 
certain  influence,  and  in  a  year,  the  amount  and  tenor  of 
this  influence  will  b§  very  perceptible.  Children  can  he 
taught  only  by  line  upon  line,  precept  upon  precept. 
1  am  so  impressed  with  the  vastness  of  the  claim  children 
have  on  us,  that  I  sometimes  feel  as  if  the  great  object  of 
each  generation  was  to  educate  the  next.  Certainly  only 
self-education  has  a  higher  claim.  I  love  the  confidingness 
and  affection  they  show  in  communicating  these  trifles,  and 
I  cannot  bear  to  check  it.  It  is  impossible  to  give  them  a 
hint ;  even  the  oldest  girl  in  school  often  speaks  aloud  her 
satisfaction  when  she  has  finished  a  lesson,  and  expects  a 
sympathetic  smile. 

I  take  so  much  interest  in  the  workings  of  every  human 
mind,  that  I  always  enter  into  them,  and  I  have  so  open  a 
nature  that  my  feelings  are  immediately  seen  ;  and  when 
we  first  came  together  these  relations  were  naturally  estab- 
lished between  us.  But  now  they  have  multiplied  so  fast, 
that  unless  they  subside  into  a  quiet  trust  and  mutual  un- 
derstanding, I  shall  be  quite  overwhelmed.  Do  you  remem- 
ber I  used  to  say  that  near-sighted  and  not  very  observing 
people  had  better  manners,  than  those  who  were  aware  of 
another  at  the  length  of  a  street,  or  who  could  not  enter  a 
room  without  knowing  every  person  in  it.  After  being  in  a 
company  ten  minutes,  1  always  felt  as  if  I  had  conversed 
with  every  one  there,  and  often  forgot  to  recognize  them 
when  they  came  nearer.  There  is  nearly  the  same  diffi- 
culty in  my  mental  perceptions.  I  know  so  instantly  all 
that  a  girl  feels,  needs,  or  experiences,  that  I  show  it  in  my 
manner,  regard  it  when  the  girl  does  not  expect  it,  and 
when,  perhaps,  if  unnoticed,  it  would  clear  itself  or  subside 
more  kindly.  I  think  these  difficulties  will  pass  away  with 
the  novelty  of  my  situation,  and  when  we  all  are  earnestly 
engaged  in  study.  Perhaps  you  can  shorten  their  duration. 
Some  one  has  said  that  the  first  pupils  of  a  young  teacher 
were  as  the  blood  of  the  martyrs,  the  seed  of  the  future 
church.  I  trust  I  have  had  too  much  experience  to  bring 
on  mine  so  untimely  a  fate  ;  but  I  wish  to  cause  them  as 
little  inconvenience  as  possible.  1  regret  this  partly  from 
'he  daily  inconvenience,  and  more  because  I  fear  they  will 


20 

lean  too  much  on  me.  Women  depend  enough  on  sympa- 
thy, naturally  ;  far  be  it  from  me  to  encourage  the  feeling. 

I  had  proposed  to  myself  to  throw  the  children  on  them- 
selves in  all  other  ways,  and  to  enter  fully  into  their  feel- 
ings ;  and  it  is  in  this  manner  that  I  have  brought  on  this 
habit  —  by  showing  them  that  I  was  interested  in  what  they 
did  and  felt.  I  have  always  insisted  on  their  making  the 
exertion  —  on  their  conquering  the  difficulty,  the  indolence, 
the  pettishness — and  I  have  only  sympathized  in  the  suc- 
cess. 

I  was  particularly  afraid  of  letting  them  lean  too  much 
on  me — of  learning  their  lessons  for  them.  1  once  heard 
a  lady  say,  that  she  made  one  such  mistake  in  the  begin- 
ning of  her  teaching —  it  was  so  very  easy  to  learn,  and  so 
very  hard  to  persuade  another  to  learn  :  and  that  she  had 
destroyed  the  strength  of  her  pupil's  character. 


IV. 

HAVING,  my  dear  Mary,  made  you  at  home  in  my 
school-room,  let  me  describe  to  you  what  goes  on  there. 

To  each  new  scholar  I  give  some  account  of  my 
views.  1  tell  her  I  wish  the  school  to  be  a  moral  govern- 
ment, not  one  of  authority  ;  that  the  better  they  rule  them- 
selves, the  less  I  shall  be  obliged  to  control  them  ;  that  I 
hope  they  will  do  what  is  right  and  best,  if  not,  it  is  my 
duty  to  compel  them  ;  that  I  hope  they  know  the  value  of 
time,  and  feel  responsible  for  the  right  use  of  it ;  but  if  not, 
that  I  am  responsible  to  their  parents,  and  cannot  let  them 
waste  it :  I  represent  authority  as  an  iron  enclosure,  brist- 
ling with  points,  which  they  will  never  feel,  if  they  do  not 
stray  beyond  the  boundaries  of  self-government.  I  have 
no  punishments  but  depriving  them  of  a  favorite  exercise 
or  privilege.  I  have  no  rewards  but  more  lessons.  I 
allow  them  to  speak  to  each  other  about  their  lessons, 
and  to  study  together,  if  they  do  not  disturb  the  recita- 
tions. 


21 

The  children  see  what  sincere  and  eager  interest  I  take 
in  study,  and  they  imbibe  it.  Continually  I  explain  to 
them  all  they  can  comprehend,  and  then  say  :  "  But  you 
must  know  a  great  deal  more  before  you  can  understand 
the  rest:  "  and  when  a  lesson  in  spelling  is  badly  recited 
I  recal  the  desire  which  they  had  felt  to  know  such  and 
such  tilings,  and  tell  them  that  study  is  the  key  which  un- 
locks all  the  secrets  of  Nature. 

How  can  any  one  think  ambition  or  emulation  necessary 
to  make  scholars  ?  Is  not  the  pleasure  of  the  effort  and 
the  delight  of  knowledge  enough  to  bear  one  over  the 
greatest  difficulties  ?  I  think  it  needs  but  to  keep  the  end 
insight:  give  them  glimpses  of  the  temple  through  the 
thick  leaves,  and  they  will  not  complain  of  the  rough  way. 
Every  desire  should  be  used  as  a  motive  to  exertion,  not 
suffered  to  expire  fruitless.  This  is  always  an  important 
part  of  training,  and  no  less  so  to  the  intellectual  than  to 
the  moral  character.  How  many  persons  do  we  see,  whose 
perceptions  of  what  is  right  are  lively,  whose  desires  are 
apparently  strong,  but  do  not  influence  their  actions. 
They  have  a  separate  and  almost  dreamy  existence  ;  much 
is  felt  and  suffered  in  hours  of  meditation  ;  and  meanwhile 
the  actual  life  keeps  on  as  in  another  person,  almost  con- 
tradicting that  part  of  the  character.  Some  persons  will 
say  :  we  have  no  evidence  that  these  sensibilities  are  so 
lively,  these  aspirations  so  strong  ;  we  judge  by  the  deeds, 
nd  had  they  been  truly  strong,  they  would  have  moulded 
and  controlled  the  action.  But  I  think  this  incongruity  arises 
from  a  neglected  education.  Care  was  not  taken  early  to  pre- 
serve to  the  feelings  their  rightful  influence,  as  motives  ; 
the  child  was  allowed,  perhaps  encouraged,  to  act  thought- 
lessly, from  a  low  view  of  a  subject,  without  bringing  to 
bear  upon  it  the  feelings  awakened  in  other  moments. 
Now,  I  think,  the  moments  of  intense  perception  and  feel- 
ing are  too  precious  to  vanish  without  securing  a  lasting 
influence  on  the  character.  At  these  moments  I  would 
slightly  touch  on  the  changes  they  may  work  in  us;  and 
afterward,  when  the  little  feet  were  weary  and  the  hill 
looked  steep  and  unattractive,  I  would  try  to  bring  back 
that  first  enthusiasm.  In  this  way  unity  of  life  is  secured  j 


22 

the  highest  emotions  regulate  and  harmonize  with  the  most 
common  labors  ;  the  mind  is  at  peace,  and  dwells  in  light. 

My  scholars  have  come  to  me  from  various  teachers,  and 
the  modes  have  been  as  various  as  the  masters.  But  I  look 
in  vain  for  one,  who  has  been  put  in  possession  of  her  own 
faculties.  They  really  think  that  education  consists  in 
going  through  certain  books,  and  becoming  familiar  with 
a  few  studies.  I  suppose  this  chaotic  state  arises  in  part 
from  their  having  been  changed  from  school  to  school,  and 
in  part  from  the  absence  of  any  steady  plan  in  the  parents  ; 
and  I  have  frequently  thought  of  what  I  have  heard  you 
mention  as  desirable  —  the  cooperation  of  teachers  to  form 
a  system  for  the  education  of  girls.  If  they  would  bring 
their  experience,  and  tell  us  how  much  time  they  demand, 
and  the  parents  would  bring  their  desires  and  expectations, 
and  tell  us  how  much  time  they  allow,  for  the  intellectual 
education,  we  might  have  it  well  arranged  and  symmetri- 
cal, and  as  complete  as  the  time  given  would  admit.  At 
present,  all  are  working  in  the  dark ;  the  parents  have  no 
confidence  in  the  master ;  the  master  is  not  sure  of  the 
cooperation  of  the  parents.  Not  only  these  and  the  in- 
jured scholars  suffer,  but  all  unfortunate  persons,  who  are 
within  hearing ;  for  no  subject  gives  rise  to  such  endless 
discussions  as  one  imperfectly  understood.  If,  in  their 
blind  struggles,  both  parties  tumble  into  the  presence  of 
Truth,  great  is  her  light,  and  it  prevails  over  both  their 
errors. 

Many  words  and  anxieties  have  been  expended  on  school 
education,  which  seems  to  be  the  best  education  for  girls 
in  our  society  ;  but  they  have  been  uttered  in  various  cor- 
ners, by  mothers,  whose  instincts  made  them  wise,  —  or 
partially  and  often  dogmatically,  and  as  complete  systems, 
by  teachers.  When  a  teacher  perceives  the  advantage  of 
any  one  mode,  as  the  Pestalozzian,  or  that  of  oral  instruc- 
tion, he  is  apt  to  be  carried  away  by  its  success,  and  forget 
the  advantages  of  a  different  course.  Perhaps  he  has  him- 
self been  for  years  subjected  to  drilling,  and  received  the 
first  instruction  addressed  to  his  understanding  as  light  from 
heaven  ;  —  henceforth  drilling,  learning  by  rote,  are  banish- 
ed from  his  system,  and  thoroughness  and  accuracy  too 


23 

often  follow.  He  forgets  what  he  himself  may  owe  to 
them,  and  hurries  forth  to  free  all  liitle  slaves,  with  the 
light  which  made  him  free.  His  system  suits  some  chil- 
dren, and  obtains  the  confidence  of  their  parents  ;  to  others 
it  speaks  in  vain.  Meanwhile,  in  another  little  flock  quite 
an  opposite  system,  calling  forth  their  energies  in  a  different 
manner,  works  wonders.  The  parents  of  the  successful 
ones  are  equally  pleased.  Parties  are  naturally  formed  ; 
there  is  on  both  sid.s  ample  evidence  of  success  and  fail- 
ure ;  the  confidence  of  the  parents  is  lost ;  the  children 
are  perplexed  when  they  pass  from  one  to  another ;  and 
we  have  scholars  admirably  developed  in  some  respects, 
but  on  the  \vhole,  crude,  incomplete,  unpolished. 

1  am  not  so  Quixotic  as  to  try  to  prevent  human  nature 
from  running  into  extremes,  and  seizing  partial  views  of 
any  subject.  But  I  think  we  ought  not  to  rest  in  such 
views,  and  that  a  person  who  lives  in  society  is  inexcusa- 
ble if  he  does  not  attempt  to  add  his  segment  to  others, 
until  together  they  embrace  the  whole  subject. 

You  who  meet  others  interested  in  the  cause,  can,  per- 
haps, induce  them  to  join  in  the  undertaking.  They 
need  not  fear  reducing  the  living  food  to  "  dry  formulas 
and  dead  grammatical  cinders  : "  nor  the  stripping  of  ed- 
ucation to  the  bare  branches  and  unsightly  trunk.  We 
would  merely  secure  a  firm  and  mighty  trunk,  clothed  in 
the  varying  foliage  which  the  differing  nature  of  each 
teacher  would  furnish. 

Far  be  it  from  me  to  rob  life  or  teaching  of  their  variety. 
I  would  only  have  the  great  ideas  which  should  guide  both 
fully  unfolded  and  deeply  engraved,  so  that  we  might  safely 
follow  the  bent  of  our  owrn  individual  characters  in  teaching, 

O  f 

and  draw  to  us  fit  pupils  by  the  subtile  laws  of  sympathy. 
Come,  my  dear  Mary,  set  about  it,  will  you  ?  I  quite 
envy  you  for  being  near  so  many  thinking  persons,  who 
will  enter  into  the  subject  which  occupies  you,  and  impart 
their  own  experiences.  I  never  regret  absence  from  Bos- 
ton but  at  these  times,  when  my  mind  is  full  of  a  subject 
demanding  not  only  reflection,  but  the  light  and  observa- 
tion of  many  minds.  I  want  the  stimulus  of  other  minds 
seeking  the  same  truths.  I  like  to  have  a  treasury  of  ma- 


24 

terials  heaped  together,  from  which  each  draws  instinctive- 
ly all  which  his  nature  prompts.  The  power  of  minds 
thus  kindling  one  another  is  wonderful ;  it  has  given  us  eras 
in  science,  in  poetry,  in  philosophy. 

When  alone  I  still  find  pleasure  in  holding  fast  to 
the  practical,  and  sending  my  eyes  roaming  over  distant 
regions  for  analogy  and  new  light.  I  exercise  two  powers  ; 
enjoy  a  double  life.  I  feel  like  a  physician,  who  in 
swift  thought  ranges  over  the  whole  economy  of  the  human 
frame  to  understand  a  disease,  yet  always  keeps  his  hand 
on  the  pulse  of  the  patient.  Much  as  I  reverence 
quickness  of  insight,  I  consider  matter  as  the  test  in  all 
which  is  done  under  the  sun  ;  and  I  distrust  all  conclusions, 
in  which  intellect,  the  feelings,  and  common  sense,  do  not 
concur.  And  upon  this  subject  we  must  have  much  more 
than  the  assent  of  these  three  in  one  mind  ;  as  so  much 
depends  upon  experience,  we  want  the  experiments 
of  many  persons  in  all  varieties  of  life.  From  these  and 
their  deductions,  a  general  whole  will  be  formed,  which 
we  can  receive  with  confidence,  and  afterward  adapt  to  our 
circumstances.  If  I  have  not  stated  this  too  formidably, 
will  you  engage  in  it  ?  Pour  upon  me  a  flood  of  light  from 
my  beloved  Boston.  You  know  I  can  never  abandon  a 
subject  until  I  have,  by  seeking  and  by  revolving,  gone  as 
far  in  it  as  is  then  possible  for  me  ;  and,  indeed,  never 
wholly  abandon  one  :  only  intrust  it  to  my  memory  as  to 
our  first  mother's  bosom,  to  lie  there  until  new  lii^ht  from 
future  events  shall  call  it  into  activity.  Meanwhile,  rather 
than  sit  in  darkness,  I  will  light  my  little  candle  at  the 
flame  of  my  own  thoughts. 

I  shall  leave  to  those  who  have  more  practical  knowledge, 
the  inquiry  into  past  systems,  and  without  troubling  myself 
to  pull  down  any  thing,  shall  consider  the  intellectual  edu- 
cation of  woman  in  general,  and  of  girls  in  our  society  par- 
ticularly ;  and  to  do  this  I  shall  assume  the  privilege  of  our 
countrymen,  and  go  back  to  the  very  root  and  origin  of  the 
matter.  Upon  second  thoughts,  this  is  too  important  a 
question  to  be  discussed  at  the  end  of  a  letter.  I  will  rath- 
er finish  my  sheet  by  propounding  some  of  the  questions 
which  have  arisen  this  last  month,  and  which  your  ac- 


25 

quaintance  with  both  parents  and  masters  may  enable  you 
to  answer. 

Do  not  you  think  that  the  parents'  want  of  confidence 
is  communicated  to  the  pupils  and  chills  the  master  ? 
You  know  in  our  society  cultivated  and  uncultivated 
women,  mingle  on  an  equal  footing,  a  slight  covering  of 
grace  and  manner  concealing  from  one  another,  and 
even  from  themselves,  wherein  they  differ.  The  ignorant 
among  these  are  perhaps  quite  as  ambitious  for  their 
daughters  as  the  well-informed,  and  having  heard  a  certain 
study  or  practice  recommended,  insist  on  it,  to  the  great 
injury  of  the  pupil  and  teacher. 

I  have  so  much  faith  in  the  maternal  feeling,  that  I  have 
no  doubt  if  pains  were  taken  to  ascertain  the  best  studies 
for  girls  at  each  age,  mothers  would  adopt  them.  Af- 
ter doing  all  in  their  power  for  a  daughter,  they  are  fre- 
quently disappointed  ;  she  leaves  school  wholly  ignorant  of 
some  important  branches,  and  regrets  that  no  wise  friend 
stood  by  to  urge  them ;  or  she  feels  that  her  school  hours 
have  been  wasted  in  accommodating  to  one  change  after 
another. 

How  are  we  to  inspire  parents  with  this  confidence?  There 
is  in  this  country  no  authority,  not  even  experience,  to 
create  it.  We  must  deserve  it.  We  must  survey  the 
whole  ground,  and  lay  it  out  with  our  best  wisdom.  We 
must  gain  insight  into  the  subject,  and  consider  the  circum- 
stances peculiar  to  our  country  ;  and  we  shall  not  then 
complain  of  want  of  confidence.  If  we  are  faithful,  mothers 
will  soon  find  it  out ;  there  is  no  want  of  seeking  and 
reflecting  and  toiling  on  their  part.  Their  wasted  exertion 
is  one  of  the  most  melancholy  features  of  the  present  mode 
of  education.  How  often  have  I  seen  a  mother  foregoing  all 
social  enjoyment,  devoting  her  weary  evenings  to  the  gram- 
mar and  the  Latin  lesson,  wasting  herself  and  her  chil- 
dren in  fruitless  attempts  to  accomplish  what  they  have 
never  been  trained  to  attain.  1  have  been  tempted  to 
say,  "It  is  too  late,  —  habits  of  observation, of  examining 
any  little  phenomenon,  of  persevering,  of  proceeding  step  by 
step  —  some  such  natural  lessons  given  ten  years  since,  and 
this  jvould  have  been  an  intellectual  sport.  Begin  early  — 
3 


26 

this  is  the  great  secret  of  all  undertakings.  Do  not  let 
children  lead  the  life  of  vagabonds  until  they  present 
themselves  to  the  unfortunate  master.  No  matter  for 
teaching  this  or  that  branch  ;  but  teach  them  to  observe, 
to  reflect,  to  apply,  to  persevere  ;  in  short,  to  live  earnestly, 
and  according  to  intellectual  laws  ;  and  they  will  be  pre- 
pared for  all  we  can  set  before  them." 

The  absence  of  precedent  may  occasion  us  some  slight 
inconveniences,  but  it  leaves  us  more  free  to  adapt  our  ed- 
ucation to  the  position  of  our  women.  This  is  in  some 
respects  different  from  that  of  women  in  other  countries. 
There  is  here  perhaps  more  cultivation  in  proportion  to 
property —  and  inferiority  as  to  accomplishments  —  domes- 
tic life  need  not  be  so  encumbered,  though  knowledge  and 
skill  in  the  essentials  of  housekeeping  insure  comfort,  and 
may  be  indispensable.  We  are  more  companions  for  our 
husbands,  have  more  liberty,  more  valuable  influence,  and 
are  more  strongly  bound  to  fit  ourselves  for  our  respon- 
sible station.  Do  not  smile  at  my  running  so  glibly  over 
the  difference  between  ourselves  and  our  sisters  across  the 
water.  I  but  tell  it  as  it  was  told  to  me.  I  make  no  pre- 
tensions to  personal  knowledge. 

Considering  the  whole  community,  fashion  receives  but 
little  honor.  A  certain  degree  of  cultivation  is  highly 
valued.  We  have  leisure  to  read  much  that  is  valuable 
in  our  own  tongue,  and  those  who  desire  it,  usually  find 
time  for  foreign  authors.  By  observing  a  wise  moderation 
in  dress  and  company,  we  may  fulfil  all  our  social  duties,  and 
secure  many  hours  for  books.  How  desirable  it  is  that 
we  should  be  prepared  to  draw  from  these  the  greatest  ad- 
vantage !  This  preparation  is  demanded  of  the  master.  I 
had  almost  said,  it  is  his  exclusive  province  ;  for  most  pa- 
rents are  too  busy  to  exert  even  a  passive  intellectual  influ- 
ence upon  their  children.  The  few  moments  they  are  to- 
gether, scarcely  suffice  to  call  forth  the  common  sentiments 
and  affections  of  social  life.  And  for  the  intellectual  de- 
velopement  the  master  has  but  a  few  hours,  taken  from  a 
crowded  and  almost  gregarious  life  —  from  the  dancing 
school,  the  streets,  the  thousand  nothings,  attractive  because 
enjoyed  in  company. 


27 

How  is  the  poor  master  to  carry  on  this  training  in  the 
few  interrupted  hours  left  for  him,  with  children  whose 
heads  and  hearts  are  running  on  far  different  things  ?  I 
answer,  he  never  can,  until  parents  and  children  realize  the 
importance  of  his  work,  and  yield  him  full  possession  of 
the  hours  called  his.  Let  him  show  them  that  the  moral 
nature  requires  for  its  perfection,  not  only  purity  of  heart, 
but  clearness  of  intellect.  Let  them  see  that  he  knows 
how  to  develope  the  intellect ;  knows  in  what  order  and 
what  connexion  to  present  its  appropriate  food  ;  that  he 
will  carry  the  most  ordinary  as  far  as  their  capacity  per- 
mits, and  will  aid  the  gifted  to  valuable  acquisitions.  When 
teachers  will  unite  and  ascertain  what  are  the  most  impor- 
tant studies,  about  what  age  they  should  be  commenced, 
and  in  what  order  they  must  be  followed,  then  we  may 
hope  to  see  our  daughters  well  educated  with  half  the  pres- 
ent expense  of  time  and  temper;  and  the  hours  spent  at 
school  will  be  not  merely  the  happy,  careless  days  of  youth, 
but  the  seed-tirne  of  an  ample  harvest. 


V. 

MY  DEAR  MARY  : 

WHEN  I  consider  human  nature  in  its  capabilities,  or  in 
these  young  creatures  fresh  from  the  hands  of  God,  and 
downed  with  gifts  for  eternity,  my  heart  swells  with  enthu- 
siasm. I  feel  as  if  it  would  be  very  easy  to  keep  them 
from  sin,  from  being  sufferers,  or  the  cause  of  suffering, 
to  save  their  tender  souls  from  the  bondage  of  opinion  and 
prejudice,  and  unfold  them  in  their  true  proportions.  All  of 
noble  and  lofty  that  have  ever  lived  throng  my  recollection. 
All  the  forms  of  virtue,  lofty  sentiments,  sweet  affections, 
press  around  and  offer  themselves,  the  fit  birthright  of  these 
untrammelled  souls.  I  allow  their  claims,  I  would  embrace 
them  all ;  but  can  they  be  united  in  one  person? 

Our  ideal  has  been  enlarging  ever  since  the  beginning 
of  the  world ;  each  step  of  our  intellectual  and  moral 


28 

progress  has  elevated  our  conceptions  of  it.  Each  great 
deed  has  made  our  trust  in  these  conceptions,  certainty ; 
and  inspired  teachings  have  given  it  an  elevation  not 
otherwise  attainable.  Every  age  casts  its  skin  of  faults 
and  errors,  and  moves  on  rejoicing  like  a  strong  man,  bear- 
ing old  burdens  lightly,  and  eager  for  new  ;  where  it  per- 
ceives a  duty,  delighted  to  fulfil  it ;  where  an  enlightened 
conscience  declares  a  practice  wrong,  quick  to  lay  it  aside. 
Meanwhile  the  child  comes  into  the  world  feeble  and 
ignorant  as  ever;  he  brings  no  new  powers  to  the  wider 
and  more  complicated  work  before  him.  With  the  same 
temptations  in  himself,  he  stands  before  a  more  nice  and 
strict  tribunal.  Yet  he  smiles  as  unconsciously,  and  ap- 
plies himself  to  life  with  as  good  a  heart,  as  if  his  eyes  had 
opened  in  Nature's  simplest  nook.  And  he  is  right  —  for 
the  same  all-wise  Parent  has  ordered  his  lot ;  and  if  a  wider 
and  more  complicated  field  is  before  him,  more  light,  more 
materials  surround  him,  he  need  bring  only  the  same 
powers  and  the  same  effort.  Life  is  as  easy  to  the  child 
of  to-day  as  to  the  firstlings  of  the  world,  if  those  around 
him,  who  have  the  light  and  the  materials,  are  faithful  to 
their  task.  Their  responsibility  is  great  —  their  difficulties 
of  choosing,  we  must  allow,  greater  than  when  life  was 
more  simple  —  but  if  they  share  the  child's  faith,  and  obey 
entirely  every  law  that  they  perceive,  they  will  not  find 
themselves  without  a  guide.  This  entire  obedience  to  every 
law  must  be  insisted  on,  because  a  being  like  man,  in  whom 
two  elements  are  so  intimately  combined,  and  influence  each 
other,  can  never  disobey  with  impunity  the  slightest  law  of 
either  nature.  The  artisan  who  has  never  fed  his  eyes  on 
Nature's  kindly  green,  nor  raised  them  to  the  eternal  stars, 
but  strained  them  through  a  microscope  until  they  are  little 
more  than  one  of  its  glasses,  has  neglected  an  organic  law. 
Our  sensations,  when  we  have  strained  an  organ  by  a  cer- 
tain use  of  it,  direct  us  to  repair  the  harm  by  employing  it 
differently.  Had*  the  watch-maker  snatched  a  few  mo- 
ments from  his  labor  to  tend  plants,  behold  the  largest 
objects  in  his  reach,  or  had  the  evening  been  given  to  the 
free  air  and  the  distant  heaven,  his  vision,  and  with  it  all 
his  conceptions,  would  not  have  been  circumscribed.  The 


29 

importance  of  this  obedience  to  organic  laws  has  been  so 
ably  set  forth,  that  I  should  not  urge  it,  had  I  not  daily 
proofs  that  they  receive  very  little  voluntary  obedience. 
All  should  see  their  beauty  and  fitness,  and  love  to  act  with 
them,  and  not  wait  until  some  evil  or  pain  compels  obe- 
dience. If  the  law  be  all-pervading  and  immutable,  its 
evil  consequences  follow,  we  are  harmed,  whether  we  feel 
it  or  not.  If  violations  of  physical  laws  brought  only 
physical  penalties,  we  might  generally  trust  to  them  their 
own  correction,  for  they  make  themselves  felt.  But  we 
have  said  that  man's  twofold  nature  makes  the  one  liable 
for  the  faults  of  the  other,  and  we  should  be  especially  on 
our  guard,  lest,  in  disobeying  physical  laws,  we  incur  spir- 
itual evil  or  privation. 

Those  who  complain  of  the  burden  of  civilized  life,  and 
look  for  their  freedom  to  some  great  principle  or  reform, 
will  often  find  themselves  lightened  by  obeying  physical 
laws :  some  slight  clue,  closely  followed,  brings  them  to 
unexpected  and  valuable  results.  Among  these,  two  laws 
stand  forth,  more  inexorable  than  the  rest  to  the  com- 
plaints of  personality,  but  cherished  guides  to  him  who  de- 
sires individuality.  These  are,  organization  and  circum- 
stances. By  circumstances  I  do  not  mean  that  superior 
facility  of  one  course  over  another,  which  presents  itself  to 
weak  and  sluggish  minds  as  an  insuperable  fate  ;  but  I  mean 
the  environment  in  which  each  man  is  born,  which  inev- 
itably colors  his  existence,  but  which  never  interferes  with 
his  free  will  or  moral  worth.  I  mean  that  which  made  the 
great  of  ancient  times  different  from  the  hero  of  to-day  — 
which  made  Plato  and  Socrates  toil  painfully  for  truths 
which  are  known  to  common  minds  now.  It  is  useless  to 
deny  the  influence  of  these  environments.  We  should 
rather  accept  them,  as  the  means  of  adapting  us  to  our  age 
and  place,  and  believe  them,  though  different  in  all  other 
respects,  equally  adapted  to  unfold  us  for  eternity. 

The  child  feels  no  need  of  such  guides.  He  makes  no 
pause  or  choice  who  aims  to  conquer  the  world.  He 
hopes  soon  to  know  all  things  —  he  believes  he  shall  become 
all  he  admires.  Blessed  ordering  of  Providence,  which 
hides  from  the  young  aspirant  the  plain  strewed  with  the 
3* 


30 

fallen !  let  us  reverence  his  faith,  though  our  more  expe- 
rienced eyes  are  sensible  of  his  illusion.  Do  not  think  I 
use  the  word  illusion  bitterly  —  it  is  by  illusion  that  our 
finite  nature  is  drawn  on. 

"  God  gives  us  love.     Something  to  love 

He  lends  us  ;  but  when  love  is  grown 
To  ripeness,  that  on  which  it  throve 
Falls  off,  and  love  is  left  alone." 

What  are  these  illusions,  if  we  examine  them?  Are  they 
not  the  offspring  and  the  expression  of  faith  ':  Are  they 
not  spirit  asserting  its  supremacy  over  matter,  and  trusting 
its  own  noble  promptings  rather  than  the  sad  tales  and  warn- 
ings of  experience  ? 

We  have  said  that  the  child's  hope  is  unbroken  —  is  it 
so  with  the  youth,  or  does  disappointment  wait  on  knowl- 
edge? He  finds  the  world  crowded  with  people,  with  ideas. 
If  he  would  rank  among,  or  even  comprehend  his  contem- 
poraries, an  infinite  number  of  powers  and  accomplishments 
are  expected  of  him,  which  his  happy  ancestors  knew  not. 
Each  day  discovers  some  new  department  of  which  he  is 
ashamed  to  be  ignorant ;  each  acquaintance  has  some  new 
gift  or  art,  in  which  he  also  would  excel.  He  must  learn 
all,  practise  all,  feel  all.  He  must  become  an  epitome  of 
the  world,  for  his  love  of  excellence  will  not  let  him  rest. 
Happy  for  him,  if  in  this  distraction  he  lose  not  force  and 
concentration  ;  happy,  too,  if  this  immense  undergrowth  do 
not  stint  his  loftier  aspirations. 

The  youth  alive  to  the  merits  of  all,  wishes  to  make 
all  his  own.  He  does  not  at  first  discriminate  and  seek  only 
for  the  best ;  it  is  only  when  his  pinions  beat  against  this 
invisible  cope  of  time,  that  he  acknowledges  that  all  are 
not  for  one,  and  asks  himself  which  is  best.  Then  is  the 
dangerous  moment  for  his  faith.  Among  all  these  modes 
of  activity,  his  mind  does  not  rest  on  any  as  the  best,  nor 
can  it  affix  to  any  a  precise  value.  What  is  prized  in  one 
age  or  circle,  is  thought  worth  little  in  another,  and  he  is  in 
danger  of  casting  it  all  aside  as  mere  matter  of  opinion, 
and  following  his  own  wild  will.  In  no  one  person  can  he 
satisfy  himself,  and  an  unexpressed  but  firm  resolve  lives  in 
the  depth  of  his  soul,  to  be  himself  superior  to  all.  Some 


31 

find  perfect  satisfaction  in  justice,  uprightness,  reasonable- 
ness ;  others  live  in  an  atmosphere  of  love,  charity,  hospi- 
tality ;  others  make  life  brilliant  by  cultivation,  refinement, 
intellectual  gifts. 

Among  women,  the  different  qualities  are  yet  more  varied  ; 
they  show  themselves,  not  in  a  few  decided  modes  of 
action,  but  in  an  infinity  of  little  traits  ;  their  feelings  com- 
bine with  all  their  perceptions  and  ideas  ;  and  the  mental 
philosopher  who  would  explain  woman  by  the  same  laws 
which  answered  for  man,  is  as  much  at  a  loss  as  the  scien- 
tific man  who  expects  by  the  simple  laws  of  Physics  to  in- 
terpret the  subtle  combinations  of  Chemistry. 

If  the  perplexed  youth  comes  safe  from  the  trial,  his 
burning  discontent  with  others  becomes  so  much  motive 
to  excel.  If  he  be  really  noble,  he  will  continue  to  love 
others,  though  they  do  not  satisfy  him.  Their  wants  will 
not  excite  a  personal  feeling  towards  them :  he  cannot 
estimate  their  powers,  their  temptations,  but  he  can  tell 
how  far  their  deeds  fall  short  of  ideal  perfection,  and 
comparing  them  with  this,  he  will  keep  its  image  ever 
lofty  and  pure  ;  and  from  all  his  disappointments  he  will 
come  out  with  a  perfect  love  for  others,  an  entire  faith  in 
man's  capabilities,  a  conviction  of  his  power  over  himself, 
and  a  determination  so  to  live  as  to  satisfy  his  ideal.  But  his 
ideal  has  already  been  limited  by  time ;  life  is  too  short  to 
be  poet,  philanthropist,  philosopher,  all  in  one  ;  days  and 
nights  come  round  with  fearful  rapidity,  and  each  one  with 
its  appointed  little  duty,  to  teach  man  order,  and  remind 
him  he  is  mortal. 

He  soon  receives  another  clieck.  He  has  attempted 
something,  which  a  companion  apparently  inferior  did  with 
ease,  and  he  has  failed.  Why  is  it?  He  has  spent  on  it 
hours,  which,  differently  used,  would  have  brought  an  ample 
harvest  —  he  has  tried  faithfully,  perseveringly.  Why  has 
he  not  succeeded  ?  He  has  done  his  utmost  in  vain,  and 
he  gives  himself  up  to  despondency.  Shall  we  leave  him 
here,  to  waste  his  powers  and  lose  his  ardor  ?  No  —  let  us 
turn  his  disappointment  into  a  valuable  lesson.  Let  us 
show  him  that  he  has  done  his  utmost  of  exertion  in  this 
particular  instance,  but  has  not  used  his  utmost  judgment 


32 

in  choosing  his  'object ;  he  has  not  followed  the  leadings 
and  laws  of  his  organization.  These  laws  are  as  inexora- 
ble as  those  of  material  nature  ;  not  one  component  part 
must  fall  short,  not  one  proportion  vary,  or  the  result  dis- 
appoints us.  Therefore  I  continually  say  to  my  scholars, 
not  exertion  only,  but  wise  exertion. 

Let  the  young  aspirant  accept  this  second  limit,  and 
strive  according  to  the  laws  of  his  organization  ;  let  his  de- 
sires be  as  boundless,  his  efforts  untiring,  as  before,  but  let 
them  take  their  direction  from  the  gifts  Nature  has  bestowed  ; 
by  watching  her  and  following  her  leadings,  he  will  dis- 
criminate the  possible  from  the  impossible,  and  take  the 
first  step  towards  being  a  wise  and  happy  man.  He  who 
does  this  becomes  truly  humble ;  he  knows  that  to  no  one 
is  the  whole  kingdom  of  mental  gifts  granted,  and  a  very 
small  portion  may  fall  to  his  share :  such  as  it  is,  he  is 
bound  to  improve  it  to  the  utmost.  His  happiness  depends 
on  it;  only  by  doing  this  in  the  right  spirit,  can  he  enter 
into  and  enjoy  the  greatness  of  others.  He  must  appre- 
ciate all  that  has  been  done,  and  yet  be  contented  to  forego 
great  and  little  things,  if  organization  and  circumstances  de- 
ny them.  He  must  feel  that  not  only  shining  deeds,  the 
genius  of  Shakspeare  and  Beethoven,  are  out  of  his  power, 
but  that  every,  even  the  minutest  trifle,  that  organization 
and  circumstances  deny,  is  equally  so.  He  must  live 
among  this  shining  host,  and  do  homage  to  them,  yet  per- 
form his  little  circuit  with  a  tranquil  and  contented  heart. 
This  is  the  greatest  trial  and  the  greatest  triumph  of  man  — 
to  preserve  his  aspirations  exalted,  but  his  humility  and 
obedience  superior.  He  delights  in  putting  his  will  into 
the  path  God  has  prepared,  and  finds  in  it  a  peace  from  all 
earthly  vexations. 

The  more  light  a  man  has,  the  more  he  dwells  upon 
spiritual  things,  the  easier  this  renunciation  of  temporal  su- 
periority and  power  becomes.  He  realizes  that  in  every 
action  the  motive  and  the  consequence  to  the  character  are 
all,  the  concomitant  circumstances  nothing.  He  no  longer 
strives  to  unite  in  himself  all  which  he  admires  in  others. 
He  regards  the  shining  deeds  of  the  past  as  only  the  spray 
of  the  stream  as  it  leaps  into  the  abyss.  If  we  try  to  catch 


33 

and  form  again  the  glittering  bubbles,  we  shall  fail.  We 
should  remember  that  in  the  still  pool  above  lies  the  cause 
of  this  glorious  show,  in  the  green  meadow  below  its  most 
blessed  effect ;  and  if  the  living  fountain  and  the  laughing 
plain  are  his,  he  cares  not  whether  more  or  fewer  sunbeams 
lent  lustre  to  his  waterfall. 

We  come  now  to  the  third  limit  which  awaits  youth  — 
that  of  circumstances.  This  is  one  which  it  often  perceives 
first,  and  against  which  it  rebels  most,  because  this  seems  to 
be  imposed  by  other  persons,  not  by  the  will  of  God  ;  for 
the  young  do  not  know,  that  when  we  have  done  our 
utmost  to  move  others,  and  in  vain,  their  fixedness  is  ac- 
cording to  the  will  of  God  —  it  is  something  which  he  has 
brought  about,  through  manifold  influences,  for  wise  ends. 
They  resent  circumstances  imposed  by  others,  not  seeing, 
behind  the  narrow  or  base  motive  of  the  agent,  the  wise 
purpose  of  the  First  Cause. 

The  child  is  much  to  be  pitied,  who  receives  his  constraint 
from  the  faults  of  others,  and  not  from  their  wisdom  and  love. 
Perhaps  no  after  influences  can  repair  this  early  harm. 
The  only  way  to  make  a  child  acquiesce  in  unhappy  cir- 
cumstances, is,  in  all  our  teachings  and  other  influences,  to 
try  to  inspire  it  with  confidence  in  the  wisdom  and  love  of 
God  —  to  show  it  these  throughout  creation  in  the  situa- 
tion of  others  —  and  point  out  to  it  elsewhere  apparent 
evil  as  real  good.  If  we  can  make  the  faith  from 
these  sources,  overpower  the  continual  fretting  of  its  per- 
sonal feelings,  it  will  be  safe  ;  and  even  where  we  cannot, 
utter  ruin  is  prevented,  and  good  seed  sown  for  future 
years. 


VI. 

MY  DEAR  MARY  : 

I  SURROUNDED  the  youth  with  limits  in  my  last,  let  me  now 
explore  the  sides  where  nature  has  left  him  free.  He  shows 
his  faith  in  the  justice,  the  wisdom,  the  lovingness  of  God, 


34 

by  accepting  his  organization  and  circumstances,  and  be- 
lieving that  such  as  they  are,  they  are  precisely  adapted  to 
develope  his  individuality  and  secure  his  progress.  He  has 
no  rebellious  or  repining  thought  because  his  gifts  are 
slender  or  circumstances  unkind  ;  he  knows  that  what- 
ever is,  is  right,  and  instead  of  fighting  against  the  barriers, 
uses  them  as  guides.  This  is  often  done  without  a  settled 
plan  ;  we  learn  to  do  what  we  like  to  do,  and  can  do 
best,  but  not  always,  and  sometimes  with  self-reproach. 
This  feeling  arises  from  instances  we  have  known  of  per- 
sons who,  obeying  one  particular  impulse  of  the  organiza- 
tion, have  in  this  way  violated  a  higher  law.  Organiza- 
tion must  not  rule  the  vessel ;  it  turns  the  helm,  but 
there  are  sails,  and  winds  above,  and  powers  with  which 
it  does  not  vie.  It  is  a  guide  of  earthly  origin,  and 
only  gives  direction  to  the  soul's  activity  in  the  body, 
offers  more  or  less  aid  to  the  moral  nature,  through  the 
intellect  and  feelings,  but  never  controls.  But  the  earthly 
life,  by  the  proper  acting  of  which  the  moral  nature  is  de- 
veloped, must  have  some  direction  —  must  move  hither  or 
thither  in  the  universe — and  this  direction,  organization 
and  circumstances  give.  The  soul  in  a  new  body  and  a 
new  place,  might  find  itself  at  a  loss  but  for  this  officious 
adviser,  whose  counsels  throng  our  life,  from  the  cradle  to 
the  grave.  At  first  she  follows  its  suggestions  implicitly  ;  but 
as  she  has  the  power  of  comparing  and  refl&cting  on  all  the 
news  it  brings,  and  drawing  thence  ideas  of  duty,  she  soon 
finds  that  the  promptings  of  organization  sometimes  disa- 
gree with  these  ideas.  She  ceases  to  trust  it  as  a  counsellor, 
and  employs  it  as  an  assistant.  She  takes  each  matter  into 
her  own  court  —  there  lies  the  last  appeal  —  there  the  soul, 
feeling  her  responsibility,  calls  before  her  all  claimants,  from 
those  which  ray  their  feeble  influence  from  a  distance,  to 
her  most  dangerous  and  powerful  neighbor,  organization. 
The  claims  of  God,  of  man,  of  her  own  organization,  of  the 
created  universe,  pass  before  her,  and  she  tries  to  give  to 
each  its  due  influence.  She  can  in  a  moment  put  down 
the  greatest  clamor  of  organization ;  she  can  break  the 
iron  bonds  of  circumstance  ;  she  can  by  her  efforts  set 
time  at  nought ;  she  shows  us  that  she  can,  one  after 


35 

another,  put  down  every  combatant.  I  would  pursue  this 
subject  no  further,  had  not  the  power  of  circumstances  over 
the  will,  and  of  organization  shewn  in  family  traits  and 
phrenology,  been  a  stumbling  block  to  many.  If  it  will 
not  be  going  too  deep  into  philosophy,  let  us  stop  and  see 
what  power  they  are  likely  to  exert  upon  the  soul. 

We  believe  that  the  two  objects  of  the  Creator  were 
happiness,  and  progress  (which  is  the  gratification  of  a 
finite  intellect) — because  the  two  elements  of  his  nature 
discernible  by  us  are  love  and  wisdom,  and  because 
throughout  the  creation  we  perceive  this  incessant  growth 
and  change  accompanied  by,  and  causing  enjoyment.  We 
do  not  know  whether  happiness  and  growth  or  action 
are  dispensed  equally  to  each  of  the  existences  ;  apparent- 
ly dumb  nature  has  more  action  and  less  enjoyment,  —  or 
perhaps  none,  if  it  be  unconscious;  the  animals  seem  to 
have  more  happiness  than  progress,  they  enjoy  more  than 
they  accomplish  ;  and  man  enters  with  an  infinite  enjoy- 
ment into  all  the  pleasures  which  his  earthly  home  supplies. 

Throughout  creation,  then,  reign  happiness  and  progress ; 
all  are  living,  developing,  enjoying  —  there  is  no  stepping 
backward  —  no  annihilation  —  we  are  never  pained  by  see- 
ing one  particle  of  this  matter,  with  which  we  have  so  much 
in  common,  annihilated  ;  all  that  seemed  like  it,  advancing 
science  shows  to  be  its  change  into  more  subtle  elements 
and  new  forms.  So  strong  is  our  faith  in  the  indestructi- 
bility of  matter,  that  should  an  instance  of  its  disappearance 
be  forced  upon  us,  we  should  blame  our  limited  senses,  and 
trust  to  future  discoveries  to  confirm  our  belief. 

While  we  have  this  faith  in  the  indestructibility  of  mat- 
ter, can  we  admit  for  a  moment  that  spirit  can  be  destroyed  ? 
If  it  continue  to  exist,  it  must  make  progress  or  it  will  not 
be  happy.  Progress  is  synonymous  with  spiritual  life.  In 
breathing  into  man  the  breath  of  life,  God  gave  him  also  of  His 
life  — gave  him  this  impulse  to  progress,  to  live,  this  power  of 
receiving  impressions,  of  loving,  and  willing,  which  we  call 
the  soul.  In  our  souls,  then,  we  find  the  same  conditions 
we  observed  in  the  rest  of  the  universe  ;  but  we  volunta- 
rily obey  these  laws,  which  nature  follows  without  a  choice. 
Apparently,  all  that  is  required  of  unconscious  nature  is, 


36 

to  move  and  interact  in  such  a  way  that  the  greatest  possi 
ble  quantity  of  pleasure  and  service  for  men  and  animals 
shall  be  produced.  Each  atom  of  nature  exerts  at  each 
moment  many  influences,  in  modes  infinitely  varied.  Hence 
it  charms  us,  and  provokes  us  to  search  her  out,  and  excites 
in  us  a  corresponding  variety  of  emotions.  This  is  all  na- 
ture can  do ;  but  as  our  powers  are  greater,  so  is  our  re- 
sponsibility. 

The  world  without  souls  would  not  contain  enough  en- 
joyment to  satisfy  a  benevolent  God.  So  He  has  planted 
in  it  souls,  which  are,  like  all  other  existences,  not  station- 
ary, not  defined,  but  rather  powers  capable  of  receiving  and 
returning  impressions.  He  put  them  in  this  growing,  moving 
world,  where  each  object  forces  them  to  live.  He  joined 
them  to  bodies,  that  they  might  sympathize  with  animal 
life  and  communicate  with  actual  existences.  He  made 
those  bodies  subject  to  the  same  laws  as  nature,  that  they 
might  love  her  and  be  interested  in  her  operations.  By 
thus  mingling  them  with  what  was  around  them,  He  secured 
their  being  vividly  impressed,  and  gave  to  life  a  mighty 
though  invisible  charm.  Few  people  are  aware  of  the  en- 
joyment we  have  from  being  of  the  like  nature  with  our 
abode,  and  its  dumb  dwellers.  All  the  common  joys  which 
make  earth  pleasant  —  which  keep  man  from  being  a  mis- 
anthrope, an  ennuye,  a  suicide — draw  their  strength  from 
this  like  nature.  Love  of  external  nature,  part  of  our  in- 
terest in  our  race,  of  our  love  of  children,  and  the  pleasure 
we  take  in  the  confiding  gaze  of  animals,  originate  here. 
We  cannot  tell  why  nature  soothes  us,  life  draws  us,  and 
we  call  our  feelings  instinctive. 


VII. 
MY  DEAR  MART: 

THERE  is  a  danger  of  our  country,  of  our  age,  which  we 
ought  to  guard  against.  In  a  life  so  full  of  excitement,  the 
great  ideas  and  interests  are  in  danger  —  they  are  jostled 


out,  like  the  finest  authors,  by  the  shallow  writers  of  a  day. 
In  educating  a  child  now,  it  would  be  my  chief  aim  to  give 
it  depth  of  character  ;  it  should  be  not  merely  intellectually 
acquainted  with  the  history  of  the  creation,  and  of  God's 
dealings  with  the  children  of  men,  but  it  should  have  a 
vivid  and  realizing  sense  of  God's  wisdom,  love,  and  con- 
tinual presence.  Often  a  child  is  impressed  with  this  for  a 
moment,  then  comes  some  minor  fact  or  thought,  and  it 
passes  from  its  mind.  The  great  facts  of  God's  existence 
and  character,  and  our  responsibility  to  Him,  should  have 
such  hold  that  no  other  thoughts  can  displace  them  ;  they 
should  occupy  in  our  minds  the  same  space  they  do  in  real- 
ity— that  is,  should  consciously  penetrate  our  whole  exist- 
ence. Only  by  doing  this  we  satisfy  their  claims  upon  us ; 
not  by  barren  assent  or  momentary  feeling.  Thou  shall  love 
the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart  —  He  will  accept  no 
less.  Now,  how  in  this  bustling,  crowded  world,  can  we  save 
children  from  this  distraction,  and  secure  to  them  depth  of 
sentiment  and  strength  of  principle  ?  The  first  requisite  is, 
that  we  be  thus  penetrated  ourselves.  If  God  is  to  us  the 
supreme  and  ever-present  Being  he  should  be  —  if  our  de- 
sires, tastes  and  occupations,  receive  their  limits  from  the 
moral  sense — it  will  be  shown  in  our  daily  life,  and  most  chil- 
dren will  imbibe  it.  The  next  requisite  is,  that  we  be  open 
with  them ;  that  we  do  not  set  apart  ideas  as  above  their  com- 
prehension, nor  keep  from  them  the  motives  of  our  conduct. 
Let  them  sympathize  with  and  enter  into  all  we  do;  let  us 
show  them  that  we  practise  the  same  submission  to  law 
which  we  ask  ;  let  them  see  how  our  actions  spring  from 
feeling  and  truth,  and  they  will  regard  these  as  real  moving 
powers,  not  as  dry  precepts.  Let  us  trust  them,  and  call 
upon  them  for  sympathy  in  all  we  do  and  feel.  For  them, 
nothing  is  too  holy  ;  they  have  all  the  powers  that  we  have, 
and  those  powers  are  fitted  to  comprehend  the  natural  mani- 
festations of  moral  truth.  They  may  not  always  fully 
comprehend  the  action,  but  they  will  see  it  in  their  own 
way,  and  perhaps  with  a  purer  spirit  than  an  older  person  ; 
for  Divine  lips  have  declared,  that  of  such  is  the  kingdom 
of  heaven. 

Another  truth  which  they  can  early  feel  and  keep  pres- 
4 

409500 


38 

ent  to  their  thoughts,  is,  that  all  which  is  done  under  the 
sun,  is  the  small  index  of  a  mighty  power — that  the  spirit 
uses  this  rude  web  of  life  only  for  support,  while  unfold- 
ing and  nerving  itself  for  greater  flights.  But  this  rude 
web  is  its  appointed  work  for  the  season.  We  must  not  be 
depressed  because  it  looks  common  and  unworthy,  nor  for 
this  must  it  be  despised  and  abandoned  ;  it  often  gives  the 
clue  when  spiritual  insights  are  silent  ;  and  when  we 
consider  that  infinite  spiritual  powers  descend  into  it,  toil 
and  grow  in  it  —  when  we  reflect  that  this  labor,  this 
mortal  life,  is  the  way  which  the  Creator  has  prepared  for 
this  unfolding,  we  become  reconciled  to  it ;  and  we  wish  to 
have  it  perfect  in  every  part — so  many  strong  threads  of 
the  intellect,  so  much  soft  enfolding  of  the  feelings  secured 
by  steady  and  vigorous  action.  We  cannot  hasten  the  task, 
nor  do  it  piecemeal,  nor  pause  in  it.  We  must  lay  in  thread 
after  thread,  often  ordinary,  sometimes  sad  ones,  —  but  to 
the  placing  of  each  many  influences  combine,  and  from 
each  mighty  results  follow ;  and  according  as  each  is  wrought 
with  fidelity,  comes  the  spirit  at  last  out  of  its  mortal  coil, 
strong  and  glorious,  or  feeble,  tarnished,  fallen  from  its  first 
estate. 

This  view  of  life  is  constantly  present  to  me,  and 
it  gives  me  great  consolation  and  patience  in  all  my 
undertakings.  I  have  often  need  of  it  in  school,  so  little  is 
accomplished,  compared  to  my  wishes  ;  yet  I  know  that  if 
we  are  all  faithful  in  all  things,  our  characters  will  rise  to 
the  utmost.  I  strive  simply  to  obtain  fidelity  from  moment 
to  moment,  and  am  not  impatient  for  actual  results  —  cast- 
ing myself  on  that  spiritual  law  which  decrees  strength  as 
the  reward  of  exertion. 

I  believe  I  have  now  mentioned  the  most  important  ideas 
which  should  be  kept  present  to  a  child's  mind.  All  oth- 
ers will  fall  into  their  right  place.  Levity,  excess,  incon- 
sistency, will  vanish  ;  we  may  direct  the  activity  wherever 
organization  promises  enjoyment  and  excellence. 

I  must  now  consider  how  far  organization  guides  us  in  the 
education  of  girls.  Its  first  indication  is  one  in  which  all 
experience,  and  I  should  say  each  person's  consciousness, 
agree  —  to  cultivate  the  feelings  rather  than  the  intellect. 


39 

Were  the  powers  of  man  and  woman  precisely  alike,  it 
would  be  an  anomaly  in  nature.  The  difference  is  one  of 
the  wisest  provisions  of  the  All  wise,  and  must  be  kept  in 
sight  in  all  attempts  to  unfold  woman  in  her  true  propor- 
tions. We  observe  at  once  that  all  beings  claim  her  love, 
that  her  heart  is  always  ready  to  answer  the  demands  on  her 
intellect.  Whatever  she  sees,  knows,  touches,  she  loves. 
Her  love  is  not  only  more  universal,  than  that  of  man,  but 
more  fervent,  particularly  her  religious  feeling.  Let  us  fol- 
low the  leadings  of  nature,  and  call  forth  and  strengthen  feel- 
ing in  all  its  forms.  She  must  cherish  at  the  bottom  of  her 
heart,  deep  central  fires,  making  the  surface  luxuriant.  She 
must  have  sensibility,  hearty  sympathy  with  all  human  feel- 
ings, swift  com  passion  for  the  afflicted,  a  heart  wide  enough 
to  embrace  the  world,  yet  delighting  to  overflow  the  few 
with  its  treasures.  When  we  recal  the  many  occasions  on 
which  feeling  makes  woman  seem  to  us  almost  divine, 
we  feel  that  her  intellectual  developement  is  far  less  impor- 
tant. In  these  hours  she  beams  upon  man,  far,  far  above 
him  ;  but  how  often,  how  constantly,  does  she  fall  below 
him  !  How  often  is  her  sweetness  turned  to  gall !  She 
sheds  poison  where  she  would  pour  balm ;  trifles  appear  to 
her  mountains,  and  the  mightiest  interests  take  no  hold  on 
her  light  and  fickle  nature  ;  she  cannot  understand  nor  ex- 
press herself;  she  moves  as  in  a  dream,  scattering  her 
precious  gifts  with  sealed  eyes.  Feeling  alone  cannot  se- 
cure her  happiness  —  it  may  make  her  wretched  —  and  we 
turn  to  the  enlightening  and  saving  power  of  the  intellect. 
We  would  cultivate  it  for  those  who  are  beloved,  because 
it  increases,  a  thousand  fold,  their  delight  in  loving,  —  we 
would  cultivate  it  for  the  lonely,  because  it  is  a  safe  re- 
source. 

We  may  infer  that  the  developement  of  the  feelings  is  oi 
more  importance  than  intellectual  culture,  because  God  has 
not  left  it  to  chance  or  choice.  Women,  particularly, 
he  surrounds  from  infancy  with  all  that  can  excite  feeling. 
They  are  the  cherished  objects  ;  they  live  in  the  very  heart 
of  life  —  in  the  scene  where  all  great  events  occur,  where 
great  griefs  are  borne,  and  where  all  outward  action  has  its 
rise.  Birth,  death,  sickness,  all  wounded  feelings,  seek 


40 

shelter  in  home,  and  through  sympathy  develope  the  hearts 
of  wives  and  daughters.  The  play  of  social  life,  the  sweet 
intercourse  of  families,  the  helplessness  of  infancy  and  of 
age,  the  sufferings  of  others,  all  excite  and  deepen  feeling. 
The  daily  life  of  woman  derives  its  interest  from  the  hold 
which  persons  have  on  her  feelings ;  that  she  may  please 
them,  she  cultivates  the  graces  and  embellishments  of  life  — 
she  seeks  all  womanly  gifts  —  her  charmed  hands  would 
smooth  the  pillow,  her  sweet  discourse  drive  care  from  the 
knotted  brow ;  at  her  approach  the  little  child  should  cease 
its  wailing.  Happy  the  woman  who  finds  in  her  own  family 
sufficient  objects  for  such  cares,  —  who  knows  the  delight 
of  blessing,  and  seeks  books  only  to  return,  laden  with 
spoils,  to  well-attuned  hearts.  But  we  cannot  anticipate 
such  a  lot  for  all  children,  and  it  is  the  part  of  wisdom  to 
prepare  for  the  most  lonely  and  dreary  one. 

We  have  said  that  in  the  love  with  which  all  regard  in- 
fants, and  in  the  teachings  of  life,  God  has  provided  for  the 
developement  of  the  feelings,  so  that  we  need  only  guard 
against  their  being  stifled.  But  the  intellectual  culture  has 
not  been  thus  universally  cared  for.  The  wants  of  daily 
life,  and  surrounding  objects,  solicit  the  intellect,  but  by  no 
means  so  powerfully  as  the  relations  with  others  excite  the 
feelings.  Now  there  is  a  period,  before  all  these  relations 
are  formed,  before  the  feelings  take  possession  of  the  soul, 
and  before  daily  occupations  press,  in  which  there  is  leisure 
for  intellectual  culture.  There  is  at  this  time  great  activ- 
ity, both  of  mind  and  body,  and  we  should  take  advantage 
of  it  to  give  to  each  the  culture  which  her  situation,  that 
is,  her  leisure  opportunities  and  society  require.  If  this 
period  escapes,  the  activity  will  dwindle  ;  new  ties  and 
feelings  will  take  possession  of  her,  and  it  will  be  only  too 
late  that  she  will  discover  her  neglect. 

If  we  allow  to  woman  in  general  less  extended  cultiva- 
tion of  the  intellect  than  of  the  feelings,  there  are  many 
circumstances  which  limit  it  still  more.  In  no  rank,  from 
the  queen  to  the  savage,  can  woman  be  too  gentle,  too 
loving,  too  devoted ;  but  there  are  many  situations  in  this 
wide  range  in  which  she  may  devote  so  much  time  to  her 


41 

intellect  as  to  crush  and  wither  her  more  lovely  traits. 
Thus  the  time  allowed  for  the  intellect,  varies  much  more 
than  that  claimed  by  the  feelings.  It  is  more  an  affair  of 
judgment,  to  be  decided  according  to  the  other  demands 
on  her  time.  Let  us  take  a  woman  in  our  society,  see  what 
degree  of  cultivation  is  attainable,  ascertain  what  are  the 
other  claims  upon  her  time,  and  then  we  shall  know  how 
large  a  portion  of  a  child's  hours  shall  be  given  to  strictly 
intellectual  culture. 

Filial,  parental  and  family  claims  occupy  generally  a 
large  portion  of  the  time.  And  though  we  may  sometimes 
think  that  as  much  affection  might  be  maintained,  and  that 
the  parties  by  more  cultivation  would  become  more  worthy 
of  love,  still  in  acting  out  the  golden  rule,  we  must  do,  not 
what  with  our  wants  and  tastes  we  in  his  place  should  wish 
our  neighbor  to  do  unto  us,  but  what  he,  with  his  wants  and 
tastes,  wishes  us  to  do  unto  him. 

Do  not  imagine  that  in  making  this  marked  division  I 
forget  that  the  intellect  and  the  feelings  are  often  and  best 
cultivated  together,  and  must  never,  even  in  school,  be 
wholly  separated  ;  far  less  would  I  put  their  claims  in 
opposition.  When  we  enter  on  infinite  life,  there  will  be 
no  competition,  —  the  soul  can  be  all  love,  all  wisdom, 
all  action,  —  but  while  we  are  finite,  this  inexorable  time 
marks  out  life  as  a  portion  to  be  divided.  Before  the 
night  comes,  is  time  for  so  many  thoughts,  but  if  the  soul 
is  given  up  to  them,  feeling  languishes;  —  or  is  the  day 
passed  in  little  deeds  flowing  from  feeling,  perhaps  the 
mind  has  not  enlarged  its  limits.  Many  lives  are  passed 
in  kind  and  humble  offices,  and  we  love  those  who  lead 
such,  and  regret  that  in  later  life  they  have  not  always  the 
happiness  they  seem  to  merit,  because  their  minds  have 
become  contracted  and  barren.  Other  lives  are  passed  in 
self-culture,  and  we  receive  from  those  who  lead  such,  ex- 
quisite enjoyment,  but  they  often  disappoint  us  at  home. 
Life  seems  too  short  to  bring  both  thought  and  feeling  to 
perfection,  as  few  plants  can  produce  both  abundant  leaves 
and  flowers.  Do  not  blame  me,  that  I  seem  to  make  a 
choice  between  them  —  it  is  the  tyrant  time  who  forbids 
the  fullness  of  both.j 
4* 


42 

You  know  that  I  was  half  a  convert  to  that  writer  on 
memory,  who  thought  it  could  only  be  cultivated  through 
the  affections.  A  French  writer  has  well  expressed  the 
same  truth,  by  saying,  that  "  sentiments  have  in  our  souls 
a  continued  existence,  ideas  only  pass  through  them,  and 
we  cannot  retain  these  fugitive  ideas  unless  the  sentiment 
with  which  they  are  inwoven  has  given  to  them  life."  The 
feelings  certainly  are  a  most  powerful  stimulant  to  the 
memory,  yet  the  use  of  them  as  a  means  of  strengthening 
the  memory,  is  liable  to  many  objections.  Are  not  the. 
instruments  more  worthy  than  the  object  ?  Shall  we  bring 
down  the  divine  affections,  and  bind  them  to  the  chariot  of 
an  unwilling  intellect  ?  —  will  they  not  themselves  bear  it 
along  to  high  and  heavenly  wisdom,  and  do  not  we  risk  the 
loss  of  this  when  we  yoke  them  to  the  service  of  mere 
knowledge  ?  Beside,  is  it  feasible  ? 

'  We  can  call  spirits  from  the  vasty  deep, — 
But  will  they  come,  when  we  do  call  for  them  ?' 

Will  love  flow  where  there  is  nothing  to  call  it  forth  ?  or 
are  we  to  make  a  dearth  round  the  heart,  and  then  offering 
subjects,  trust  to  that  strong  need  of  loving  which  has  made 
the  spider  and  the  picciola  dear  to  the  prisoner  ?  or  are  we 
to  gild  them  with  a  borrowed  hue,  and  say  '  Love  this,  learn 
this,  for  my  sake'  Is  the  mighty  influence  of  a  mother,  a 
friend,  to  stoop  to  such  petty  ends  ? — No,  never  will  I  drag 
high  and  strong  motive  from  its  appropriate  sphere  :  by 
the  right  action  of  the  intellect  and  of  the  feelings,  the 
moral  sense  is  evolved.  They  are  its  ministers  —  but  if 
one  servant  wait  upon  another,  the  master  goes  unserved. 
The  feelings  are  the  oil  of  the  moral  life,  —  if  we  burn  it 
for  the  intellect,  the  moral  sense  goes  benighted. 

I  would  show  to  young  persons  the  worth  and  the  plea- 
sure of  intellectual  culture.  I  would  tell  them  that  thus 
can  they  best  use  their  intellectual  gifts  ;  but  if  they 
prefer  to  serve  God  in  some  other  department,  they 
can  do  so  ;  if  they  use  their  hours  well,  they  can  be 
good  and  happy  without  much  intellectual  culture  ;  but 
if  they  will  once  make  the  effort  and  acquire  it,  they 
will  find  it  genial,  as  morning  to  the  darkened  earth. 


43 

But  I  would  make  no  appeal  to  the  child's  feeling  for 
me  ;  that  should  be  reserved  for  desperate  cases.  The 
mother,  who  calls  out  her  child's  strongest  feelings  for 
a  merely  intellectual  stimulant,  lessens  her  power  over 
him  in  a  moral  crisis  ;  and  by  accustoming  him  to  yield  to 
personal  influence,  instead  of  immutable  ideas  and  the  real 
worth  of  objects,  she  subjects  him  to  an  influence  which 
may  be  his  ruin.  Ideas,  ever  the  same,  hold  out  the  only 
shelter  to  dim-sighted,  erring  humanity  ;  whoso  does  not 
often  visit  their  cell  and  strengthen  himself  by  their  saintly 
teachings,  will  find  affections,  influence  of  friends,  favoring 
circumstances,  all  insufficient  for  him.  Do  you  know  that 
one  of  the  greatest  alarms  I  had  in  beginning  my  school, 
was  from  a  friend  who  said  to  me  — "  You  will  have  no 
difficulty  in  teaching  them  ;  with  such  little  ones,  personal 
influence  is  the  only  motive ;  they  will  love  you,  and  will 
wish  to  please  you,  and  will  learn."  I  was  aghast.  In  my 
pictures  of  a  school,  I  had  never  thought  of  myself  as  hav- 
ing any  personal  existence.  I  was  to  present  the  objects 
vast  and  interesting  as  they  really  are,  and  if  I  made  the 
air  clear  they  would  draw  my  little  mariners,  as  the  enchant- 
ed mountain  did  Sinbad's  vessel.  I  pondered  much  on 
this  remark  of  rny  friend,  and  rummaged  over  all  my  recol- 
lections to  see  if  I  had  ever  learned  any  thing  for  any  body's 
sake ;  and  at  last  resolved  to  adhere  to  my  own  plan  until 
it  failed  ;  to  make  my  pupils  learn  for  the  beauty  of  learning, 
and  because  their  corresponding  faculties  yearned  for  it, 
and  to  keep  my  personal  influence,  if  I  had  any,  to  soften 
their  hearts  and  manners,  and  ennoble  their  sentiments. 

A  short  experience  made  my  friend's  meaning  clear  to 
me  :  he  meant  my  constant,  unconscious  influence.  Know- 
ledge and  the  children  were  to  be  brought  together,  and 
I  was  the  interpreter  ;  even  if  knowledge  attracted  them, 
they  needed  most  minute  guidance  on  the  way.  I  must 
sympathize  with  each  emotion,  know  each  occurrence,  exert 
constant  control ;  in  short,  be  all  eyes,  all  heart,  all  brain  ; 
in  the  manner  of  doing  this,  consisted  my  influence.  At 
first  this  seemed  so  great  that  I  shrank  from  it ;  these 
blushing,  smiling  children,  changing  countenances  and 
changing  opinion  at  each  word  or  glance  of  mine,  seemed 
wholly  in  my  power,  and  I  feared  the  responsibility. 


44 

My  fear  of  its  becoming  excessive,  was  quickly  dispelled 
by  certain  de6ciencies  and  sluggishness,  which  called  for 
whatever  accumulated  influence  I  might  possess.  Indeed 
I  have  often  rained  down  all  influences  in  vain.  I  con- 
cluded, therefore,  that  these  things  would  adjust  themselves  ; 
and  dismissing  all  self-consciousness,  set  my  task  before  me, 
and  perform  it  in  all  simplicity.  I  offer  them  all  which 
can  draw  out  and  emich  their  powers;  encourage  the  faint- 
hearted to  daring  beyond  their  hopes,  and  urge  the  strong 
ones  to  their  utmost  speed.  I  love  to  shine  into  the  midst 
of  their  perplexities,  and  see  their  brows  relaxing,  and 
the  accents  of  despair  changed  for  new  ardor.  I  love 
to  enter  into  the  troubles  and  success  of  the  feeble  ones, 
and  to  make  them  feel  that  one  of  my  little  dependants 
is  as  precious  to  me  as  another.  But  I  should  never  cease, 
if  I  were  to  tell  you  all  my  enjoyments.  You  know  them 
all  —  you  must  feel  them  still  —  for  though  novelty  on  your 
side  is  worn  off,  it  must  revive  partly  from  sympathy  with 
each  new  claimant. 

When  I  present  to  them  a  new  idea,  my  pleasure  is  two- 
fold ;  I  enter  -into  their  feelings,  and  I  find  a  new  worth 
in  the  idea.  What  sight  can  be  more  interesting  than  that 
of  these  fresh  beings  receiving  a  great  idea !  We  are  wit- 
nesses of  a  stupendous  mental  spectacle.  This  mind,  so 
wondrously  formed  for  emotions  of  delight  and  admiration, 
placed  in  a  universe  fitted  to  excite  them,  experiences 
them  for  the  first  time  !  What,  except  feeling  it  ourselves, 
can  be  more  exquisite  than  this  heaven-prepared  meeting  ! 
You  would  not  let  a  friend  go  to  Niagara,  or  to  the  shores 
of  the  ocean,  for  the  first  time,  alone,  lest  you  should  lose 
his  transports ;  and  can  we  behold  with  indifference  these 
emotions,  often  overpowering  to  children,  when  truth  breaks 
upon  them  in  a  new  light  —  when  the  wonders  of  Nature, 
or  the  enthusiasm  of  such  a  man  as  Columbus  is  presented 
to  them  ?  Children  have  many  such  excited  and  breath- 
less moments.  Their  transparent  faces,  their  eager  looks 
and  exclamations,  their  insatiable  demand  for  more,  show 
how  critical  are  such  moments  :  their  whole  being  is  fused, 
and  you  may  mould  it  as  you  will.  How  sweet  it  is  then 
to  fix  and  deepen  this  feeling,  by  mingling  with  it  adora- 


45 

tion  —  by  saying:  "God,  the  wise,  the  loving,  has  done 
this  ;  he  poises  this  mighty  universe;  he  makes  this  moral 
law  so  beautiful  to  you  ;  he  inspires  the  heart  of  men 
with  noble  desires,  and  guides  them  hither  and  thither, 
each  to  his  own  work."  How  can  any  one  say  the  world 
is  wilful,  and  earth-inclined,  and  must  have  its  way,  while 
we  have  these  wondrous  existences  around  us,  —  this  ever- 
renewed  inward  life,  —  and  these  fresh  young  beings  spring- 
ing beside  us  !  Our  mission  is  to  bring  them  together ;  by 
the  sublime  spectacle  of  Nature  and  the  profound  teachings 
of  Life  to  develope  these  new  beings  ;  to  set  their  faces  the 
right  way  in  their  tender  years,  and  God  through  his  works 
will  draw  them  to  Himself. 

Borne  on  by  our  sympathy,  we  shall  forget  our  pitiful 
individual  existence  in  this  manifold  one;  we  shall  know 
only  that  we  are  doing  our  part  in  that  for  which  the  hu- 
man race  is  born.  Do  not  suppose  from  my  writing  thus, 
that  I  expect  each  day  to  bring  forth  these  great  truths.  I 
know  that  it  is  only  through  patient  gropings,  or  through  a 
rare  flash  of  the  feelings,  they  come  to  any  one.  But  each 
day  may  prepare  for  them,  and  may  grave  them  on  the 
character.  Each  has  also  a  harvest  of  less  important  but 
interesting  knowledge.  I  have  my  share  of  troubles  and  fa- 
tigue ;  mine  may,  in  one  sense,  be  called  a  day  of  small 
things ;  for  the  hours  are  filled  with  influences,  each  of 
which  seems  slight,  but  all  which  form  life  and  character. 
When  a  difficulty  is  vanquished,  or  ill-humor  overcome  by 
steady,  gentle  treatment,  I  consider  the  learning  or  doing 
the  thing  required  the  smallest  part  of  the  lesson.  For- 
bearance, perseverance,  kindness,  have  been  practically 
recommended,  not  only  to  the  individual,  but  to  all  the 
school ;  and  the  seed  thus  scattered,  flies  away  and  takes 
root  where  we  least  expect  it,  and  without  that  dash  of  bit- 
terness personal  experience  sometimes  produces.  This 
is  one  advantage  in  a  school ;  the  lessons  are  given  more  in 
the  abstract ;  the  individual  has  no  proud  or  angry  feeling; 
she  perceives  that  industry  is  always  and  every  where  better 
than  idleness,  that  kindness  is  loved  by  all,  and  she  chooses 
them  herself,  without  feeling  that  she  has  been  conquered 
or  blamed.  When  any  thing  has  been  done  amiss,  I  al- 


46 

ways  make  the  blame  as  little  personal  as  possible  ;  I  say, 
that  was  an  imperfect  recitation,  I  hope  I  shall  not  have  such 
another.  If  any  thing  unkind  has  been  done,  I  am  still 
more  careful.  I  dread  blunting  the  sensibility.  If  I  am 
obliged  to  speak  of  it  before  the  others,  I  mention  it  as  a 
thing  to  be  deplored.  In  short,  I  put  every  fault  in  its  true 
light,  and  let  their  own  consciences  whisper  the  reproach. 
I  am  equally  particular  to  let  them  see  the  punishment  as 
one  of  the  effects  of  ill  conduct,  not  as  inflicted  by  me, 
except  in  slight  cases,  when  it  is  rather  a  remembrancer. 
I  always  impress  on  them,  that  the  effect  of  faults  and  bad 
habits  on  themselves  is  more  hurtful  than  the  outward  evils 
they  call  punishments.  I  try  to  make  them  enter  into  all 
my  doings,  into  my  justice  and  firmness,  and  see  how  1 
dread  swerving  from  them.  I  consult  them,  ask  their  tes- 
timony, and  show  them  how  eager  I  am  to  learn  the  merits 
of  each  case,  and  how  willing  to  yield  my  impressions  to 
contrary  evidence.  Thus  they  find  that  the  law  is  above 
all  —  even  above  the  one  who  rules  them  —  and  do  not 
run  the  risk  of  having  their  moral  sense  blunted  by  an  un- 
acknowledged mistake,  or  exertion  of  arbitrary  power. 


VIII. 

MY  DEAR  MART  : 

I  WAS  so  carried  away  in  my  last,  as  quite  to  lose  sight 
of  the  point  I  was  about  to  consider ;  I  mean  the  propor- 
tion of  time  to  be  devoted  to  strictly  intellectual  culture. 

We  have  restricted  the  intellect  in  comparing  its  claims 
with  those  of  the  feelings  ;  but  if  we  have  narrowed  its  ter- 
ritory, we  must  insist  that  it  shall  possess  it  fully.  If  the 
hours  are  few,  let  them  be  hours  of  vigorous  exertion  ;  let 
the  scholars  go,  not  merely  as  recipients,  but  as  wrestlers, 
doubling  their  powers  by  wise  exertion,  making  their  minds 
robust,  healthy,  glowing,  as  the  frame  glows  after  great 
exertion.  This  intellectual  pleasure  is  too  sweet  ever 


47 

to  be  foregone,  when  once  known  ;  and  each  child,  how- 
ever humble  in  capacity,  may  taste  it :  for  it  is  the  feel- 
ing of  doing  our  utmost  which  bestows  it ;  and  though 
not  so  intense  to  the  pigmy  as  to  the  giant,  it  is  to  both  far 
removed  from  lassitude  and  inaction.  I  would  urge  this 
point  very  strongly  ;  let  the  school  hours  be  hours  of 
training,  severe  training.  Do  not  aim  at  teaching  much  of 
this  or  that,  but  offer  what  you  think  will  excite  and  ex- 
pand most,  and  secure  this  constant  growth.  Make  the 
sword  keen  and  strong,  and  it  will  cut  all  the  knots  fate  of- 
fers :  then  the  youth  comes  from  school  lightly  clad,  tight- 
ening his  girdle,  fit  for  warfare  and  for  burdens,  contain- 
ing in  himself  that  which  will  make  him  conquer  the  world  ; 
but  if  he  be  cumbered  with  learning,  like  the  Persian  with 
gorgeous  armor  and  baggage,  he  sinks  before  the  first  ob- 
stacle. 

The  woman,  and  the  perfecting  of  her  powers,  are  the 
first  thing,  and  knowledge  is  valuable  only  as  the  means 
of  doing  this.  Another  reason  for  insisting  that  school 
hours  shall  be  hours  of  severe  study,  is,  that  intellectual 
taste  and  culture  are  often  given  at  home,  or  by  lectures  or 
books  ;  and  there  is  danger  of  the  mind  becoming  ener- 
vated by  this  flood  of  easy  learning,  by  always  receiving 
and  never  striving.  Receiving  may  give  richness  to  the 
mind  —  it  can  never  give  strength.  We  are  often  disap- 
pointed in  persons  as  they  advance ;  their  strength,  their 
persistance,  is  not  equal  to  their  promise.  Perhaps  this  is 
owing  to  the  absence  of  early  intellectual  training.  It  is 
well  known  that  severe  exercise  gives  the  frame  a  strength 
quite  beyond  common  walking.  There  is  the  same  differ- 
ence in  the  force  of  a  character  which  has  striven,  and  one 
which  has  merely  received.  I  have  often  thought  of  this 
as  one  of  the  compensations  of  life.  One  man  is  sur- 
rounded by  every  advantage  ;  he  is  the  mirror  of  those 
around  him,  and  the  mirror  reflects  all  that  is  rare  and  high 
in  life  ;  he  has  no  necessity  for  effort,  gains  no  strength, 
and  the  slightest  touch  destroys  him.  Another  has  almost 
no  advantages  —  nothing  but  warnings,  wants,  difficulties  — 
but  he  is  forced  to  strive,  to  live.  1  would  carry  the  par- 
allel between  the  frame  and  the  character  still  further; 


48 

their  dangers  are  the  same.  We  seek  strength  for  the 
physical  nature  in  exertion  ;  but  we  want  not  strength  at 
the  expense  of  delicacy.  We  would  have  each  nerve, 
each  organ  developed,  so  as  to  give  to  the  soul  a  true  re- 
port, and  the  greatest  amount  of  pleasure  ;  but  there  must 
be  nothing  callous.  Nor  will  we  put  out  an  eye  to  heighten 
the  sensibility  of  the  other  organs.  Just  so  in  the  soul : 
we  want  the  greatest  degree  of  firmness  and  power  which 
is  consistent  with  delicacy  of  perception  and  with  the  de- 
velopement  of  the  whole  soul.  We  would  not  stifle  imag- 
ination, that  we  might  increase  common  sense,  nor  would 
we  take  a  child  from  actual  life  that  she  might  go  further 
in  ideas.  On  the  contrary,  we  would  secure  her  being  so 
much  alive  to  all  as  to  appreciate  all ;  and  keeping  always 
this  balance,  and  trusting  to  the  feelings  to  preserve  deli- 
cacy, we  would  do  our  utmost  to  strengthen  her  intellect 
and  character. 

This  is  the  part  of  the  teacher ;  out  of  this  wide  uni- 
verse she  is  to  choose  that  which  will  most  excite  and 
enrich  the  intellect,  and  she  must  insist  on  intellectual 
exertion.  She  must  give  just  as  much  light  as  is  needed  to 
induce  exertion,  yet  never  so  much  as  to  make  effort  need- 
less. She  must  show  the  child  at  each  step,  that  not  only 
her  cooperation,  but  her  utmost  exertion,  is  necessary,  and 
that  the  teacher  cannot  make  it  for  her,  any  more  than 
she  can  take  steps  for  a  tottering  infant.  Just  as  the  in- 
fant's little  feet  get  strength  and  skill,  so  must  the  child's 
mind,  by  its  own  efforts  ;  and  as  it  is  worth  more  to  the 
child  to  know  how  to  walk  and  have  the  freedom  of  the 
globe  than  to  have  perambulated  the  nursery  and  garden  in 
leading  strings,  so  it  is  more  to  the  youth  to  come  into  full 
possession  of  its  powers,  with  but  a  small  patrimony  of 
knowledge,  than  to  be  loaded  with  a  vast  amount,  and  know 
not  how  to  use  it  or  obtain  more. 

After  all,  what  is  the  amount  of  any  knowledge  man 
acquires  in  his  short  life  ?  On  his  death-bed,  his  powers, 
his  capabilities,  belong  to  him  ;  the  actual  knowledge  he 
will  probably  find  almost  an  imperceptible  unit,  and  of  no 
account  to  a  spirit  clothed  with  immortality.  Just  so  far 
as  his  intellect  and  feelings  have  elevated  his  moral  being, 


49 

he  will  be  happy  and  have  insight ;  but  if  his  intellect 
have  been  only  collecting  earthly  pebbles,  he  will  find  it  a 
drawback,  not  an  aid.  Therefore  we  must  keep  in  view, 
that  this  knowledge,  by  which  we  tempt  out  and  strengthen 
the  intellect,  is  only  its  mortal  food  ;  created  for  the  in- 
tellect, not  itself  the  end  of  the  intellect ;  only  to  be  elabo- 
rated by  it,  and  thus  enlarge  the  life  of  the  soul.  This 
consideration  will  guide  us  in  our  choice  of  studies  and  ob- 
jects to  be  presented.  We  shall  not  be  solicitous  that  the  in- 
tellect should  be  versed  in  history,  thoroughly  scientific, 
acquainted  with  art ;  but  we  shall  think  it  entitled  to  know 
what  man  has  felt  and  done,  to  enter  into  nature  and  art, 
and  we  shall  offer  these,  feeling  that  they  are  inferior  to 
it ;  not  that  they  are  mighty  piles,  and  it  must  toil  up 
them.  We  shall  choose  our  studies  far  more  freely,  with- 
out regard  to  what  is  considered  necessary  or  fashionable, 
except  so  far  as  it  is  not  worth  while  to  fight  with  the 
world  we  live  in.  We  shall  accept  method,  because  it 
exists  and  suits  us,  and  shall  be,  for  the  sake  of  the  intellect 
itself,  exact  and  thorough. 

The  choice  of  what  to  present  first  is  a  great  responsi- 
bility, and  numerous  have  been  the  attempts  to  prove  the 
superiority  of  one  or  another  mode.  It  has  been  at- 
tempted, also,  to  combine  all  modes.  I  should  not  wish 
to  advance  any  plan,  where  so  many  wiser  persons  have 
failed  ;  and  I  might  yield,  as  most  do,  to  the  stream  of 
circumstances,  and  teach  what  those  around  me  teach,  were 
I  not  convinced,  that  as  each  spot  has  its  peculiar  difficulty 
to  be  cleared  up,  just  there  falls  the  beam  of  light,  if  we 
will  only  receive  it ;  if  we  will  only  keep  in  view  great  dis- 
tant lights,  and  at  the  same  moment  use  the  little  rays 
from  surrounding  circumstances.  Some  fail-  from  gazing 
too  fixedly  on  the  great  and  distant  orbs,  others  from 
feeling  no  influences  but  those  of  the  nearest  environ- 
ment. 

In  practical  cases,  one  of  moderate  insight  may  see  better 
on  the  spot,  than  a  person  of  the  clearest  vision  at  a  distance ; 
and  it  is  in  this  position,  that  I  now  set  myself  about  educat- 
ing these  children  in  that  practicable  manner,  which  shall 
most  nearly  satisfy  my  ideal.  Circumstances  I  shall  test 
5 


50 

strictly,  and  let  none  pass  as  unconquerable,  without  con- 
viction, and  it  is  with  great  reluctance  that  I  shall  let 
them  interfere  with  a  free  and  complete  developement. 

I  endeavor  to  fix  definitely  what  is  possible  and  what  is 
impossible.  I  cannot  enlarge  the  spirit  which  has  taken 
form  in  each  child  ;  but  I  can  develope  it  harmoniously, 
and  give  to  its  tendencies  the  highest  aim.  The  moral  worth 
is  perhaps  always  in  our  power,  however  unpropitious  o  gan- 
ization  and  circumstances  may  be.  It  may  exist  equal 
and  the  same  in  all  modifications  of  these ;  through  the 
form  and  hue,  which  are  incidental,  we  perceive  the  delib- 
erate and  faithful  fulfilment  of  all  claims,  which  in  each  case 
constitutes  moral  worth. 

Thus,  praise  of  character  is  more  comprehensive  than 
praise  of  natural  parts  and  dispositions  ;  it  not  only  implies 
these,  but  proves  them  to  have  been  well  exerted.  They 
have  not  shown  themselves  at  intervals,  or  by  the  side  of 
low  inclinations,  but  have  by  action  developed  around 
themselves  suitable  habits,  and  waxed  strong.  The  char- 
acter is  the  silent  but  eloquent  history  of  the  past  life.  It 
is  the  complexion  of  the  soul  caused  by  the  past  and  de- 
noting the  future  ;  and,  though  Nature  gives  the  first  sketch 
and  the  materials,  the  character,  and  more  especially  the 
moral  character,  is  the  work  of  education. 

We  should  feel  our  responsibility  for  this  influence,  and 
should  labor  unceasingly  to  make  it  the  best ;  but  we  must 
recognize  its  frequent  subordination  to  other  and  unforeseen 
influences.  God  holds  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand, 
and  sends  forth  by  unsearchable  ways  the  resistless  pow- 
ers, which  smile  the  heart  with  a  sudden  conviction, 
no  human  teachings  could  bring  about.  Habits,  follies, 
prejudices,  —  the  crust  of  years  falls  off  in  a  moment. 
A  lofty  palace  is  builded  on  the  very  plain  where  we  wait- 
ed with  our  bricks  and  mortar,  and  could  do  nothing. 

It  is  often  when  we  do  our  utmost  for  another,  that  we 
become  sensible  how  little  we  can  do.  We  suffer,  we  en- 
treat, we  toil  in  vain,  to  root  out  the  Upas-tree  from  our 
beloved  garden  ;  the  black  cloud,  Heaven-directed,  solitary 
sails  over  the  cherished  spot,  the  lightning  flashes,  the  foul 
plague  is  gone. 


51 

Disappointment  is  the  celestial  messenger  who  draws  us 
to  another  world  ;  developement  prepares  us  to  receive  her, 
and  more  especially  fits  us  for  this  world.  Only  to  a  certain 
extent  do  Happiness  and  Virtue  reproduce  each  other ; 
the  noblest  growths  require  a  deeper  soil. 

It  was  formerly  a  favorite  theory  with  me,  that  chil- 
dren should  in  a  manner  go  through  the  experience  of  the 
race  ;  that  the  earliest  poems,  the  earliest  histories  and  ideas 
of  life,  should  be  first  impressed  on  them.  This  seemed 
the  natural  order ;  that  to  make  man  what  we  have  said 
he  should  be,  an  epitome  of  the  ages.  But,  on  examining 
the  early  writings,  I  found  so  many  mistakes,  so  much 
that  must  be  immediately  unlearned,  that  1  could  not  think 
of  condemning  a  child  to  so  much  useless  labor.  I  admired 
their  freshness,  their  air  of  reality,  the  suitableness  to  un- 
informed faculties ;  but  I  thought,  that  in  giving  a  child 
too  many  of  them,  t  should  deprive  it  of  the  advantages  of 
the  present  era,  and,  perhaps,  inflict  the  evils  of  the  past. 
We  must  conform  to  time  and  space.  Let  us  admire  the 
past,  and  cull  from  it  whatever  advantages  it  may  possess  ; 
but  let  us  not  seek  to  transport  to  it  the  child  of  the  present 
century,  or  we  shall  make  him  that  most  wretched  thing,  a 
man  misunderstood.  Let  us  use  for  this  age,  the  right  it 
has  over  all  the  good  and  beautiful  of  the  past.  Doubtless 
it  has  its  own  disadvantages  ;  and  if  so,  we  have  no  right 
to  add  to  these,  the  evils  of  the  past.  Life  is  too  short  for 
unnecessary  mistakes.  We  must  try  to  hit  the  happy  medium 
between  presenting  an  object  exactly  as  it  strikes  the  unen- 
lightened senses,  and  as  it  appears  after  being  the  subject  of 
ages  of  experiments  and  philosophic  inductions.  If  we  pre- 
sent it  in  the  former  light,  it  will  appear  untrue  to  any  child 
in  the  present  enlightened  atmosphere;  if  we  present  it  too 
much  in  the  abstract,  as  it  delights  the  scientific  man  and 
philosopher,  it  will  be  to  him  dry,  devoid  of  reality.  As 
life  is  the  happy  union  of  spirit  and  matter,  so  every  thing 
which  interests  the  living  man  or  child  must  address 
itself  both  to  imagination  and  sense.  All  objects,  all  sub- 
jects exist  thus ;  and  he,  who  can  seize  and  present  them 
in  this  two-fold  light,  has  the  gift  of  teaching. 


52 

Did  you  never  observe,  in  teaching  children,  how  much 
more  interesting  facts  become,  when  warmed  by  connex- 
ion with  persons,  or  illuminated  and  their  worth  shown  by  a 
general  law  ?  And  have  you  never  been  disappointed  on 
presenting,  in  a  short  and  favorite  form,  a  high  idea  or  a 
scientific  truth,  by  finding  it  a  mere  skeleton  to  them,  and 
that  you  must  go  back  and  show  them  how  the  facts  seemed 
thus  to  the  first  inquirer,  and  how  he  perceived  one  law 
after  another,  and  advanced  to  the  inner  one,  which  ex- 
plained all  the  phenomena  ?  You  are  often  obliged  to  form 
again  the  whole  circumstantial  envelope,  and  this  is  a  dif- 
ficult task  to  those  who  have  been  all  their  lives  reducing 
knowledge  to  its  laws,  and  trying  to  carry  it  about  in  the 
smallest  possible  compass. 

But  it  must  be  done  by  those  who  would  satisfy  chil- 
dren. They  bring  to  these  phenomena  of  mingled  spirit 
and  matter,  a  being  capable  of  comprehending  both,  and 
illustrating  one  by  the  other,  and  neither  must  be  neglected 
in  high  intellectual  developement. 

Will  you  allow  me  to  illustrate  this  need  of  children,  by 
a  comparison  more  apt  than  elegant  ?  Did  you  ever  hear 
of  the  experiment  tried  upon  two  do^s,  one  of  which  was 
fed  upon  the  richest  broths,  yet  could  not  be  kept  alive  ; 
while  the  other,  which  had  only  the  meat  boiled  to  chip 
and  water,  throve  very  well  ?  Though  the  nourishment 
was  scanty,  yet  proper  action  of  the  powers  was  induced. 
Just  so,  were  I  compelled  to  give  children  pure  sublimated 
ideas,  or  mere  actual  existences,  1  would  choose  the  latter ; 
but  we  shall  all  agree,  that  the  child  and  the  dog  who  have  a 
due  proportion  of  essence  and  substance  will  fare  the  best. 

Constitution  must  be  consulted  also.  There  is  much 
natural  difference  in  children's  impressibility  by  external 
objects,  and,  of  course,  in  their  relative  impressibility  by 
ideas.  In  this  we  must  follow  Nature,  seeking  at  the  same 
time  to  enlarge  her  limits ;  and  must  be  content  to  climb 
the  hill  of  knowledge  by  whatever  ascent  offers,  trusting 
from  the  top  to  make  all  visible. 

Teachers  are  in  danger  of  giving  too  much  importance 
to  those  studies,  which  most  interest  themselves.  Chil- 
dren are  so  imitative  and  sympathetic,  that  they  will  proba- 


53 

bly  imbibe  tbe  taste  of  the  teacher,  and  this  gives  her 
undue  influence.  I  should,  therefore,  be  particularly  on 
my  guard  against  any  favorite  tastes  of  my  own,  and 
should  praise  and  excite  those  in  which  I  was  deficient; 
thus  casting  my  conscious  influence  into  the  scale,  to 
counterbalance  that  which  I  unconsciously  exercise.  If  we 
could  not  do  this,  if  we  could  never  excite  what  we  have 
not  ourselves,  the  sphere  of  excellence  would  be  contracted 
in  each  generation.  But  as  organization  frequently  denies 
to  our  pupils  what  we  are  most  fitted  to  excite,  so  from  our 
influence  spring  up  new  flowers  and  plants  from  sunnier 
lands  ;  we  give  warmth  and  impulse,  and  the  seed  unfolds 
according  to  its  nature. 


IX. 

MY  DEAR  MARY  : 

I  CONSIDERED,  in  my  last,  the  influence  of  individual 
organization.  I  will  now  consider  the  state  of  the  organiza- 
tion at  each  period  of  life. 

In  the  child,  we  find  immense  physical  and  intellectual 
activity,  extreme  quickness  of  the  senses,  and  susceptibility 
to  impressions  ;  a  vivid  conceptive  faculty,  and  a  flood  of 
affection,  bathing  indiscriminately  all  which  it  approaches. 
We  find  a  want  of  persistence  in  all  its  powers,  bringing 
upon  it  often  the  reproach  of  volatility,  but  which  is  really 
the  mode  in  which  Nature  accomplishes  the  vast  work  of 
these  early  years,  without  fatiguing  any  part.  She  makes 
the  stimulus  unceasing,  but  each  organ  ceases  to  work,  as 
soon  as  it  has  done  enough  to  strengthen  itself. 

In  youth,  all  the  powers  become  discriminating.  Where 
they  attach  themselves,  it  is  with  a  stronger  grasp.  But 
they  lose,  partly,  their  instinctive  character,  and  are  more 
guided  by  the  apparent  worth  of  things.  Affection  be- 
comes feeling,  and  general  activity  is  exchanged  for  enthu- 
siasm for  chosen  pursuits,  and  in  these  there  is  generally  no 
want  of  persistency.  Still  the  powers  have  not  reached  their 
5* 


54 

full  strength.  They  sometimes  break  down  ;  and  the 
feelings  alternate  from  the  wildest  hope  to  blank  depres- 
sion. 

In  riper  age  alone,  we  possess  our  powers  fully.  Per- 
ception has  a  wider  range,  and  we  form  more  nice  and 
quick  judgments.  We  retain  the  impressibility  of  youth, 
and  the  impulses  which  we  then  obeyed  blindly,  we  now 
rule  and  direct.  We  can  employ  each  power  longer  than 
in  more  tender  years,  and  need  fear  no  burdens. 

In  childhood,  then,  Nature  bids  us  afford  ample  exercise 
to  the  senses,  as  inlets  to  the  intellectual  and  stimulants  to 
the  conceptive  faculties ;  yet  forbids  us  to  exercise  any 
lonir.  She  has  placed  the  child  here  with  as  many  organs  as 
we  have,  amid  the  same  objects  we  have,  and  thus  signifies 
that  it  should  at  once  become  acquainted  with  each  after 
its  own  fashion ;  should  be  drawn  out  by  each,  that  it  may 
not  for  one  moment  lose  its  symmetry  ;  and  should  bury 
the  imperfect  knowledge  it  obtains  in  its  bosom,  to  be 
the  seed  of  a  vigorous  plant,  whenever  fostering  circum- 
stances bid  it  burst  forth.  If  the  knowledge  on  any  sub- 
ject be  no  more  than  that  such  an  idea,  such  a  person,  such 
an  object  exists,  it  will  yet  be  a  fertile  germ,  and  when  the 
idea  with  all  its  details  is  again  offered  to  the  mind,  it  may 
be  strongly  grafted  on  the  original  impression  ;  and  the  child 
will  receive  the  new  information  with  double  delight,  and 
will  retain  it  longer.  I  think  this  mode  of  opening  the  mind 
gives  great  richness,  secures  a  wide  harvest  field,  and,  as  I 
have  said  before,  prepares  deeper  and  stronger  shoots  than 
can  be  obtained  afterward.  There  is  no  danger  of  over- 
loading, for  I  would  communicate  no  more  in  number, 
only  they  should  be  well  chosen  ;  each  leading  to  great 
results.  There  is  less  danger  of  volatility  and  superficial- 
ness,  because  the  ideas,  having  more  weight,  will  make 
more  impression.  There  is  no  fear  of  confusing  the  mind, 
because  each  will  be  introduced  singly,  simply,  and  with  its 
proper  associations. 

Perhaps  I  can  make  my  meaning  more  clear,  by  show- 
ing you  how  I,  being  a  governess  and  companion  of  my 
children,  interest  them  in  surrounding  objects.  Bear  in 
mind,  that  all  I  expect  to  do,  is  to  give  them  the  advantage 


of  my  experience.  I  have  lived  here  longer  than  they 
have,  and  know  more  of  this  abode,  and  I  tell  them, 
all  I  have  found  out.  But  they  have  the  same  powers  to 
comprehend  this  that  I  have,  and  the  comprehension  must 
be  their  work.  I  only  draw  their  attention  to  it. 

Behind  Mr.  O.'s  house  is  a  hemlock  grove,  a  favorite 
retreat  of  ours.  It  is  fragrant  and  shady;  the  fallen  leaves 
give  us  a  soft,  noiseless  floor,  and  the  rippling  water  and 
the  waving  trees  are  a  sweet  accompaniment  to  play  or 
study.  The  river  bends  gently  round  this  little  grove, 
and  beyond  is  a  strip  of  soft  green  meadow,  the  old  bed  of 
the  stream.  Here  and  there  silent  woods  encroach  on  the 
brighter  green,  and  then  curve  back,  ashamed  of  their 
intrusion.  A  range  of  dark  hills  closes  our  amphitheatre, 
and  across  its  canopy  fleeting  clouds  chase,  and  darken  it, 
as  they  do  our  beautiful  basin  between  the  Common 
and  Brighton.  The  whole  scene  reminds  me  of  that.  So 
you  may  imagine  me  seated  there  one  of  your  loveliest  eve- 
nings, when  the  golden  sky  is  mirrored  in  the  golden  wave, 
and  the  hills  between  shrink  back,  dark  and  frowning. 
Such  an  evening  speaks  to  all.  When  my  little  ones  have 
drunk  in  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  and  feel  that  longing 
which  Nature  always  mingles  with  her  repose,  I  say, 
"  Will  this  last  ?  Will  the  solid  hills  separate  these  fluids, 
or  will  all  rush  together  presently  in  frightful  confusion  ?  " 
They  are  astonished,  and  cry  out,  that  it  will  last ;  that  it 
will  be  the  same  to-morrow,  and  to-morrow,  and  for  ever. 
Then  I  ask  them,  why  it  should  be  so?  how  they  are  thus 
beautifully  defined  ?  thus  forcibly  held  apart  ?  Who  first 
separated  them,  and  out  of  chaos  brought  beauty  and 
order?  I  tell  them,  that  He  who  said,  "Let  there  be 
light,  and  there  was  light,"  breathed  into  this  chaos,  this 
brute  mass,  tendencies  which  secured  form,  order,  and 
life,  and  which,  in  their  operation,  we  call  natural  laws. 

I  then  make  them  observe  these  three  substances,  each 
by  a  natural  law  collected  in  itself,  this  solid  eaith,  this 
fluid  moving  water,  this  more  fluid,  invisible  air.  I  remark 
on  the  different  beauty  which  each  gives  to  the  landscape, 
make  them  observe  how  much  more  beautiful  they  are  in 
union  than  either  would  be  alone,  and  with  how  much 


56 

more  pleasure  we  rest  upon  them,  knowing  that  each 
works  according  to  the  design  of  God,  according  to  immu- 
table laws,  than  if  they  were  accidental  phenomena,  to  be 
replaced  in  an  instant  by  confusion. 

Having  thus  presented  one  simple  fact  in  Nature,  that 
it  is  not  one  and  uniform,  but  composed  of  differing  ele- 
ments, and  existing  and  ordered  by  a  First  Cause,  and 
having  connected  it  with  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  I  stop. 
Perhaps  many  questions  about  the  formation  of  the  globe, 
about  solids,  fluids,  &c.  will  be  asked  ;  but  all  these  I  put 
off,  with  a  promise  to  tell  more  if  this  lesson  is  well  re- 
membered. 

You,  who  know  my  love  of  Nature,  will  realize  that  I 
can  thus  take  her  in  pieces  without  destroying  her,  can 
even  give  her  a  deeper  significance.  You  will  see  that  I 
aim  at  this  in  all  my  teachings  ;  to  give  to  each  object  its 
widest  significance,  to  connect  it  with  many  and  high 
associations.  This  is  the  way  to  enlarge  life  and  make  it 
rich. 

There  is  no  danger  in  offering  to  the  mind  facts  and 
laws  ever  so  early  and  abundantly,  if  at  the  same  time  we 
excite  for  the  manifestations  of  these  laws,  love  and  admi- 
ration. If  these  keep  pace,  how  vast  the  whole  sentiment 
becomes !  Kepler,  gazing  at  the  starry  heavens,  and 
knowing  its  orbs  and  their  mighty  circuits,  was  capable  of 
a  higher  transport  than  the  ancients,  who  beheld  them  only 
as  a  studded  plain  spread  over  us,  while  Phoebus  bathed 
his  steeds  in  the  Ocean. 

There  is  no  fear  that  imagination,  reverence,  or  love  of 
beauty  will  die  from  excess  of  knowledge.  They  will 
thrive  by  it ;  particularly,  when  knowledge  is  presented  in 
its  natural  garb. 

Last  evening,  the  hemlock  grove  presented  new  attrac- 
tions, and  not  only  my  little  pupils  from  home,  but  most  of 
those  from  the  village,  assembled  there,  eager  for  my  ex- 
planations. 

I  told  them  there  was  one  fact  they  must  observe  in  this 
landscape.  They  beheld  it  all  as  one.  It  was,  as  I  had 
shown  them,  composed  of  different  bodies,  and  these  bodies 
had  each  its  own  position,  occupied  its  own  space  ;  and  DO 


57 

two  could  occupy  the  same  space.  Not  one  could  exist 
and  be  evident,  except  as  it  occupies  space.  I  made 
them  hold  their  hands  round  their  eyes,  to  form  a  sort  of 
frame  to  the  picture,  and  they  perceived  at  once,  that  earth 
occupied  a  certain  portion  of  it,  water  a  certain  portion, 
air  the  remainder.  Then  I  bade  them  take  away  their 
hands,  and  behold  the  true  extent  of  each  object,  and  they 
would  still  see  that  every  one  of  these  occupied  a  position 
in  space,  and  they  could  find  nowhere  an  empty  space, 
nor  could  get  any  definite  idea  of  space,  but  as  occupied 
by  matter.  They  agreed  that  earth  and  water  occu- 
pied their  space,  but  some  of  them  had  always  considered 
air  as  space,  and  could  not  be  brought  to  recognise  it  as  a 
substance.  I  was  prepared  for  this  difficulty,  and  had 
brought  a  thin  India-rubber  ball,  not  distended.  I  then 
made  them  observe,  that  our  breath  was  invisible,  and  in 
fact  air ;  and  putting  the  ball  to  my  lips,  inflated  it  in 
their  presence.  They  felt  it,  and  I  placed  a  stone  gently 
upon  it,  and  they  saw  that  there  must  be  some  substance 
beside  the  India-rubber,  which  supported  the  stone.  By 
its  resistance,  they  were  convinced  that  air  was  a  sub- 
stance. I  also  made  them  move  their  hands  until  they 
were  sensible  of  the  resistance  of  the  air.  I  showed  them 
how  this  existence  in  space  was  necessary  to  keep  material 
things  individual  and  orderly  to  prevent  their  mingling, 
and  told  them  it  was  probably  the  first  step  from  chaos. 
I  explained  how  we  got  our  idea  of  space  ;  from  seeing  it 
occupied  by  one  body,  and  finding  that  this  must  vacate  it 
before  another  could  fill  it ;  and  from  finding  the  latter 
body  sometimes  fall  short  of,  or  exceed  the  space  occupied 
by  the  first.  This  I  illustrated  by  a  little  cove,  which  lay 
at  our  feet.  It  is  difficult  to  judge  of  the  size  of  a  piece  of 
water,  and  I  asked  them  if  they  thought  a  boat,  fastened 
just  above,  would  go  into  the  cove.  They  exclaimed, 
"  No  ;  the  water  was  but  a  speck,  it  would  not  hold 
the  raft.''  I  drew  the  boat  down  and  into  the  cove,  and 
it  rode  quite  at  ease.  I  made  them  observe,  that  length- 
wise the  boat  nearly  touched  the  edge,  and  then  said, 
"Can  we  bring  in  the  raft  also?"  Those  who  did  not 
believe  the  boat  could  come  in,  were  now  ready  to  believe 


58 

there  was  room  for  the  raft,  which  was  a  tiny  one  be- 
longing to  the  boys.  We  tried  to  draw  it  in,  but  even 
on  the  sides  of  the  boat  there  was  not  sufficient  space. 
We  drew  out  the  boat,  and  brought  in  the  raft,  and  they 
saw  that  this,  being  smaller,  left  between  itself  and  the 
bank  a  wider  circle.  Having  thus  given  them  an  idea  of 
absolute  and  relative  space,  I  resisted  all  further  inquiries 
until  another  day. 

My  examples  are  not  always  perfectly  similar  to  the 
phenomena  I  am  explaining,  and  I  am  always  particular 
to  note  the  difference.  Children  are  pleased  with  com- 
parison, and  points  of  difference  in  objects  generally  similar 
are  always  remembered.  A  partial  difference  leaves  room 
for  the  conceptive  faculty,  and  makes  them  observe  more 
accurately. 

Last  evening,  with  the  same  living  examples  before  us, 
I  taught  them  to  view  this  mass  of  earth,  this  expanse  of 
water  and  of  sky,  not  as  continuous  substances,  but  as  col- 
lections of  atoms,  held  more  or  less  closely  together.  I 
told  them  that  all  bodies  consisted  of  atoms,  existing  more 
or  less  closely  together  in  a  certain  space ;  that  the  inter- 
vening space  must  be  filled,  and  we  had  reason  to  suppose 
that  it  was  filled  with  heat  or  caloric.  Therefore,  when 
they  thought  of  a  solid,  they  must  think  of  a  body  whose 
atoms  are  kept  a  little  way  asunder  by  the  heat  of  our 
world  ;  such  as  earth,  iron,  wood.  When  they  thought  of 
a  liquid,  they  must  consider  it  as  a  collection  of  atoms, 
kept  very  much  farther  apart  by  the  heat  of  our  world  ;  so 
that  they  offer  slight  resistance  to  the  hand  ;  and  when 
they  thought  of  air,  they  must  conceive  the  particles  so 
subtile  and  so  distant  from  each  other,  that  we  cannot 
perceive  them.  If  we  could  condense  air,  and  bring  the 
particles  eight  hundred  times  nearer  than  they  now  are, 
we  should  have  a  fluid,  with  particles  about  as  close  as 
those  of  water.  .If  we  could  cast  out  the  caloric  from 
water  until  its  particles  were  nineteen  times  nearer  than 
at  present,  we  should  have  water  as  solid  as  gold. 
Again  ;  could  we,  by  casting  out  more  caloric  from  the 
air  already  condensed,  make  it  nineteen  times  more  heavy, 
we  should  have  air  as  solid  as  gold.  But  we  can- 
not, on  our  globe,  make  such  great  changes  in  the  density 


59 

of  matter,  so  they  might  still  regard  them  as  solids  and 
fluids. 

I  then  asked,  if  they  thought  these  bodies,  so  different, 
could  exist  in  the  same  space,  or  whether  the  atoms,  with 
their  due  separation  of  caloric,  held  each  its  own  space  ? 
They  thought  the  liquids  and  fluids  might  penetrate  the 
solids,  without  making  them  occupy  more  space,  and  in- 
stanced a  sponge  ;  where  much  water  apparently  entered 
the  sponge,  without  very  much  increasing  its  size.  But  I 
showed  them  that  the  water  only  entered  by  displacing  an 
equal  amount  of  air;  and  proved  this  by  plunging  a  dry 
sponge  into  water,  and  letting  them  see  the  bubbles  of  air 
which  rose  to  the  surface.  I  showed  them  how  liquids 
lurked  in  many  solids,  each  atom  still  occupying  the  same 
space  it  held  by  itself. 

Then  I  told  them,  that  all  around  our  globe  was  this 
soft  subtile  fluid  air,  ready  to  rush  in  at  the  slightest  open- 
ing left  by  its  stouter  brethren.  I  told  them,  that  in  no 
place  —  in  deep  caves,  leafy  woods,  cups  of  tiny  flowers  — 
was  there  a  crevice  so  unattainable,  that  the  thin  air  did 
not  enter  at  the  moment  it  was  vacated  by  another  body. 
It  wraps  us  round,  soothing,  purifying,  blessing  us  in  a 
thousand  ways ;  and  always  maintains  its  own  space, 
though  it  easily  changes  place,  at  the  command  of  others. 
They  are  so  familiar  with  the  power  of  air  or  wind, 
in  filling  sails,  that  they  could  easily  credit  its  resisting 
power.  But  I  would  not  trust  to  this,  and  the  first  rainy 
day,  performed  some  chemical  experiments,  showing  the 
universality  of  the  principle. 

They  learned  in  this  lesson  that  all  bodies  are  composed 
of  atoms,  held  at  greater  or  less  distances,  generally  by 
caloric,  and  that  they  are  called  solid,  fluid,  or  aeriform, 
according  as  the  common  temperature  of  our  globe  holds 
them  near,  distant,  or  more  distant,  from  each  other. 

They  learned,  also,  that  not  one  of  these  atoms  can 
penetrate  or  encroach  on  the  other  ;  that  the  caloric  which 
keeps  them  asunder,  though  invisible,  maintains  its  rights  ; 
and  that  no  two  atoms  can  exist  in  the  same  space. 

This  is  the  way  I  sum  up  to  them,  what  we  have  learn- 
ed from  each  conversation.  Though  useful  to  them,  it 


60 

must  be  tiresome  to  you.  I  will  in  future  omit  it;  and,  if 
you  please,  drop  my  character  of  Scheherazade,  who  was 
always  an  extremely  provoking  personage  to  me,  and 
state  my  lessons  in  their  regular  course,  but  not  so  hornore- 
pathically  divided.  Only  bear  in  mind,  that  they  are  adminis- 
tered thus,  for  I  have  a  dread  of  the  Tarpeian  mode  of 
crushing  the  intellect. 

Perhaps  these  narratives  are  not  so  interesting  as  the 
conversations  themselves.  You  may  prefer  a  sketch  of  my 
present  arrangements  —  which  you  must  remember  are  for 
girls  from  the  age  of  four  years  to  that  of  sixteen,  none  of 
whom  have  begun  with  me  —  and  then  1  will  describe  my 
mode  from  the  very  beginning.  This  will  be  more  orderly  ; 
so  you  must  not  complain  if  my  next  be  full  of  nursery 
details. 


X. 

Mr  DEAR  MART  : 

Do  you  ever  find  an  over-exactness  among  your  schol- 
ars ?  I  have  one  who  perplexes  me  very  much.  It  is 
absolutely  essential,  that  a  fact  should  be  affirmed  in  the 
most  unconditional  manner,  or  she  cannot  rest  in  it.  Now 
this  is  what  I  avoid.  In  establishing  the  laws  of  Nature, 
it  is  in  conformity  to  truth  to  mention  the  majority  of  in- 
stances which  prove  the  law  first ;  and  afterward,  the  ex- 
ceptions. If  you  are  speaking  to  one  somewhat  advanced 
and  intelligent,  and  who  knows  that  all  laws  have  apparent 
deviations,  you  may  tell  her  these  and  the  cause,  and  she 
will  comprehend  all.  But  if  you  attempt  this  with  a 
young  child,  it  will  be  puzzled,  and  feel  no  confidence, 
and  far  less  satisfaction. 

To  insure  this  satisfaction,  which  is  one  of  the  delights 
to  which  each  step  of  knowledge  is  entitled,  I  state  the 
laws  in  general  terms,  but  not  such  as  positively  exclude 
deviations.  But  sometimes,  in  speaking  of  physics,  when 
they  have  asked  if  it  were  always  so,  I  have  said,  "  Yes ; 


61 

except  when  the  laws  of  higher  beings,  such  as  vegetables 
and  animals,  come  in  with  different  powers,  and  take  pos- 
session of  these  substances."  But  I  have  seen  by  their 
faces,  that  this  disturbed  them,  and  was  not  the  way.  It 
is  not  the  way  we  have  ourselves  been  treated.  If  we  had 
not  rested  at  each  point  of  our  progress  in  full  faith,  we 
should  have  been  discouraged.  Even  now,  some  of  the 
theories  and  laws  most  satisfactory  to  us,  are  erroneous 
conceptions  of  more  simple  laws,  which  we  cannot  at  pres- 
ent reach  ;  but  for  which  our  vision,  by  faith  and  experi- 
ment, is  strengthening  itself.  Now  this  little  scholar  is  not 
perfectly  satisfied  by  my  statement  of  laws,  and  teases  me 
continually  to  make  it  absolute.  For  instance  :  if  I  say, 
"Water  never  runs  up  a  hill,  or  ascends;"  she  says, 
"What,  never? -never  ?  never  in  the  whole  world  ?  Not 
one  drop  ?  not  one  tiny  little  drop  ?  "  and  insists  on  an  an- 
swer. She  troubles  me  particularly  about  those  laws,  to 
which  she  must  soon  learn  an  exception  in  organized 
beings.  For  instance  :  beside  the  exceptions  in  physics 
to  this  law  of  liquids,  she  must  soon  know  the  circulation 
of  the  blood  and  of  sap,  and  I  arn  afraid  her  faith  will  be 
destroyed.  Neither  do  I  like  to  have  her  think  that  I  have 
kept  back  part  of  the  truth. 

It  happened,  the  other  day,  that  one  of  my  most  punc- 
tual, industrious  little  pupils  was  late  at  school.  On  com- 
ing in,  she  whispered  the  cause  to  me.  Afterward  we  had 
one  of  these  objections  raised.  Grace  did  not  wish  to  learn 
any  thing  as  a  law,  that  I  could  not  assure  her  was  always 
true.  I  said,  "  Do  you  remember  that  last  week  I  praised 
Mary  for  her  industrious  use  of  time,  and  her  punctuality  ? 
and  you  all  agreed  with  me,  and  said  she  was  never  late  ? 
Now  she  was,  to-day,  nearly  an  hour  later  than  the  time. 
She  left  home  early,  impelled  by  her  love  of  punctuality ; 
but  when  she  was  nearly  here,  .she  met  a  little  child  crying, 
because  it  had  lost  its  way.  She  pitied  the  little  one,  and 
knew  that  she  could  do  more  good  by  carrying  it  home, 
than  by  corning  punctually  to  school.  She  has  to-day 
failed  in  her  usual  regularity.  Do  you  still  believe  in  it? 
Is  she  punctual  ?  "  They  all  cried  out,  "  Yes  ;  she  could 
not  help  it ;  she  was  orderly  and  kind,  too."  I  said, 
6 


62 
*• 

"  Yes  ;  she  was  punctual,  except  when  a  more  important 
interest,  (the  child's  happiness,)  laid  claim  on  her,  and  put 
in  motion  higher  powers,  (compassion  and  benevo  Ince  ;  ) 
these  suspended  the  action  of  the  lower  interests  and 
powers.  Thus  your  confidence  in  physical  laws  will  be 
firm,  though  they  be  sometimes  superseded  by  organic 
laws.  God  has  ordered  them  all,  and  each  has  its 
worth. 

Before  I  begin  the  details  of  my  teaching,  let  me  tell 
you  how  we  pass  the  day.  We  rise  early,  and  have  no 
fixed  employment  for  the  first  hours.  We  pass  them 
chiefly  in  the  garden  and  grounds.  We  tell  each  other 
the  news  of  the  place,  and  make  arrangements  for  walks 
or  rides.  The  children  run  off  some  of  their  exuberant 
spirits,  and  are  ready  to  meet  me  in  the  school-room  at 
nine.  From  nine  o'clock  until  twelve,  every  thought  is 
given  to  study  by  the  older  pupils.  The  little  ones  have 
half  an  hour's  intermission.  After  twelve,  we  occupy  an 
hour  with  music  and  drawing,  and  half  an  hour  with  calis- 
thenics, which  are  my  hobby,  and  shall  be  mentioned  in 
due  place.  Then  we  have  an  hour's  intermission.  Two 
more  hours  are  given  to  study,  and  half  an  hour  to  needle- 
work ;  making  five  hours  of  study,  and  tvvo«of  lighter  em- 
ployment for  the  older  pupils,  and  less  for  the  younger. 

I  allow  no  frolicking,  no  delay,  no  wandering  of  the 
thoughts.  Pens,  pencils,  water,  all  that  can  be  wanted, 
are  in  their  places,  so  that  no  time  is  lost  in  seeking. 
Seven  hours  are  not  too  much  for  the  intellect  and  ac- 
complishments. You  will  think  I  allow  a  short  time  to 
needle-work  ;  but  most  girls  occupy  their  leisure  in  little 
tasteful  employments,  and  half  an  hour's  careful  practice 
every  day  will  give  the  power  of  sewing  neatly.  It  is 
extremely  important,  that  every  woman  should  know 
how  to  use  her  needle  skilfully  and  expeditiously,  so  that 
this  family  care  need  not  be  a  burden  ;  but  that  secured, 
I  should  not  be  in  favor  of  her  giving  many  hours  to  sewing, 
unless  circumstances  required  it. 

At  five  o'clock,  the  labors  of  the  day  are  over.  After 
dinner,  we  ride,  walk,  sit  on  the  piazza,  or  do  whatever 
we  fancy.  Our  days  are  very  much  alike;  we  have  no 


63 

stated  holydays ;  but  when  fine  weather,  or  inclination  in- 
vites, we  give  up  our  studies  and  make  long  expedi- 
tions into  the  woods,  such  as  you  and  I  have  known  in 
former  times. 

Now,  if  you  think  that  I  require  too  much,  you  must 
recollect,  that  only  seven  hours  of  the  twenty-four  are 
devoted  to  both  study  and  accomplishments.  This  al- 
lows ample  time  for  sleep,  common  occupations,  and 
amusements.  It  is  during  these  hours,  that  the  more  im- 
portant education  is  carried  on  ;  the  religious,  moral,  and 
social  nature  is  brought  out,  and  the  intellect  also  receives 
stimulus  and  developement.  There  are  many  opportunities 
in  our  walks,  in  conversation,  and  in  reading  aloud,  of  in- 
teresting my  little  companions  in  the  sciences,  and  in  history  ; 
and  you  may  be  sure  that  I  do  not  neglect  such.  Thus 
my  teaching  is  linked  with  home  and  future  life,  not  re- 
garded as  a  discipline,  to  be  thrown  off  as  soon  as  possible. 

I  begin  with  accomplishments  quite  as  early  as  mental 
cultivation,  that  I  may  avail  myself  of  the  quickness  of  the 
youthful  senses.  Experienced  teachers  assure  us,  that  all 
children  are  as  capable  of  learning  to  sing  and  draw  as  of 
learning  to  read  and  write.  This  seems  almost  incredible 
in  this  country,  where  the  eye  is  not  called  on  to  discrimi- 
nate forms,  nor  the  ear  to  discriminate  sounds,  until  both 
have  been  occupied  and  confused  by  multitudes  of  sights 
and  sounds  not  discriminated.  At  the  age  of  five  years, 
I  give  a  short  lesson  daily  on  the  piano  ;  by  a  lesson  at  first 
of  fifteen  minutes,  and  afterwards  of  half  an  hour,  my  pupils 
make  some  proficiency  in  a  year.  Besides  cultivating  the 
ear  for  music,  the  eye  is  at  this  age  quicker  to  learn  the 
notes,  and  the  fingers  more  pliant  to  play  them ;  thus  the 
mechanical  difficulties  are  overcome,  and  they  will  read  the 
notes  as  easily  as  letters,  and  their  musical  talent  will  be 
freely  developed. 

%  In  the  same  manner,  I  put  a  pencil  into  their  hands,  and 
bid  them  imitate  the  objects  around  them.  They  were  not 
very  successful  in  this,  and  I  thought  they  were  disheart- 
ened by  the  want  of  resemblance  ;  therefore  I  gave  them 
easy  pictures  to  copy. 

You  will  be  amused  by  the  regularity  with  which   their 


64 

occupations  alternate.  We  need  some  rules,  or  we  shall 
forget ;  forms,  you  know,  have  been  likened  to  casks,  need- 
ed to  contain  the  wine  ;  rules  have  a  similar  virtue.  Beside, 
I  only  describe  what  my  school  has  been  for  several  months  ; 
when  they  are  tired  of  any  exercise,  or  are  proficients  in  it, 
I  shall  omit  it,  until  they  can  return  to  it  with  pleasure. 

Do  not  suppose  that  I  begin  so  many  accomplishments 
and  studies  thus  early  from  an  undue  desire  to  bring  the 
children  forward.  I  do  it  from  a  far-reaching  economy  ; 
believing  that  moments  now,  while  the  organs  are  suscep- 
tible, are  worth  hours  hereafter  ;  and  that  we  should  not 
develope  one  sense  more  than  another  at  an  age  when 
Nature  has  left  them  all  equally  open.  By  exercising 
all  the  inlets  as  equally  as  possible,  physical  and  intellec- 
tual symmetry  are  preserved.  This  should  be  done  at  ev- 
ery period,  but  particularly  in  extreme  youth. 

Calisthenics  1  do  not  alternate ;  they  are  as  needful  one 
day  as  another.  I  am  desirous  to  develope  the  children 
as  fully  in  person  as  in  mind  ;  for  by  neglecting  any  one 
of  our  numerous  muscles  and  organs,  we  bring  on  ourselves 
disease  and  feebleness.  We  are  not  aware  of  what  beauty 
the  human  form  is  capable,  until  we  behold  some  rare  and 
fine  specimen  ;  we  are  not  aware  of  its  nervous  power, 
nntil  we  see  the  feats  of  some  Arab  or  trained  athlete ; 
then  we  ask  ourselves,  "  Was  this  little,  crooked,  and 
faulty  figure,  which  answers  my  purpose  so  ill,  and  often 
cumbers  me,  intended  for  such  might  and  beauty  ?  Why 
has  it  fallen  short?"  We  answer,  "Both  strength  and 
beauty  depend  in  a  measure  on  your  training.  Had  you 
treated  each  part  with  proper  regard  and  justice  ;  devel- 
oped, not  only  the  muscles  which  civilized  life  requires, 
but  all  which  you  found  there,  strength,  beauty,  and  cheer- 
fulness would  be  yours.  But  you  have  directed  your 
nervous  energy  to  the  most  clamorous  challengers,  and 
left  all  minor  claimants  to  starve,  and  dwindle  away  ;  that 
you  live  where  your  intellect  is  constantly  excited,  and  that 
life  is  to  be  supported,  is  no  excuse  for  your  indiscretion. 
Look  at  that  Bedouin  Arab  ;  admire  the  muscles  which 
swell  his  arm,  and  behold  your  own,  where  they  have  found 
a  grave  ;  he  has  obeyed  physical  laws ;  given  his  frame 


free  developement ;  but  you  have  confined  and  partially 
annihilated  yours,  and  behold  the  long  train  of  diseases 
that  have  followed.  On  woman,  especially,  this  unnatural 
feebleness  presses  ;  it  doubles  all  her  burdens  ;  robs  her  of 
her  charm.  It  is  my  aim  to  free  these  young  girls  from  all 
unnecessary  trials.  I  have  a  book,  in  which  minute  exer- 
cises are  laid  down  for  exercising  in  turn  every  muscle  ;  it 
also  contains  directions  for  walking  well,  a  rare  accom- 
plishment. These  exercises  are  not  violent,  but  gentle ; 
for  the  muscles  are  invigorated  by  being  stretched,  or  by 
supporting  a  weight,  more  than  by  any  sudden  exertion  ; 
some  are  for  the  chest,  and  must  materially  strengthen  it 
against  our  climate ;  others  are  for  the  carriage  of  the 
head,  which  gives  such  nobleness  to  the  air ;  some  are  for 
the  ankles,  and  these  are  the  best  foundation  for  dancing. 
Calisthenics  are  taught  as  introductory  to  dancing  ;  but  I 
would  not  lay  them  aside  for  dancing  ;  they  should  be 
practised  daily  until  the  young  person  is  grown  up,  and 
we  should  see  healthy  and  elastic  forms.  I  say  nothing  of 
our  dances,  though  they  are  frequent  both  in  hall  and  on 
the  greensward  ;  for  it  must  be  confessed,  that  though 
mirth  and  gayety  wait  on  our  entertainments,  the  Graces 
are  not  always  present. 


XI. 

MY  DEAR  MARY  : 

You  ask  me  for  my  specific  methods.  I  will  begin, 
then,  by  speaking  of  my  plans  with  little  children,  with 
whose  training  I  have  had  most  practical  experience.  It 
is  needless  to  expatiate  on  the  vast  amount  of  information 
which  a  child  acquires  in  the  first  years  of  life,  like  a  Chi- 
nese gardener,  chiefly  by  an  infinity  of  experiments,  with- 
out much  reflection.  All  it  can  touch,  taste,  examine, 
it  becomes  acquainted  with.  At  the  end  of  two  years, 
its  various  experiences  have  excited  not  only  sensations, 
but  thought  and  emotions  ;  the  impression  produced  by  one 
6* 


66 

object  remains  on  the  mind,  and  is  compared  with  the  im- 
pression made  by  another  ;  remembrances  of  pleasure  and 
pain  excite  emotions,  of  which  the  object  is  not  present. 

A  new  birth  of  feelings  and  ideas,  in  addition  to  those 
produced  by  external  objects,  arises  from  the  power  of 
recalling  past  impressions  ;  and  over  these  the  soul's  indi- 
rect control  is  complete ;  she  cannot  recal  them  at  will ; 
she  cannot  control  the  original  impressions ;  deformity 
will  produce  pain ;  nobleness  will  excite  admiration  ;  but 
she  can  give  herself  up  to  the  most  important,  and  dwell 
in  them  ;  and  thus  secure  their  frequent  reproduction  with 
increased  power.  This  mental  law  is  as  strict  as  the  law 
of  circumstance  ;  we  recognize  it  practically  in  many 
ways,  as  in  habit,  in  the  advice  given  to  people  to  drive 
useless  anxieties  from  the  mind  ;  but  we  do  not  regard 
it  sufficiently  in  the  education  of  children,  or  in  self- 
education.  To  banish  pride,  malice,  or  meanness,  is  but 
a  small  part  of  the  government  of  the  thoughts;  each 
thought,  both  in  nature  and  importance,  should  be  subject 
to  a  strict  surveillance. 

Above  the  low  horizon  of  the  Laplander's  imagination, 
bounded  by  eternal  snows,  the  idea  of  his  mission  rises  no 
higher  than  the  bare  support  of  life.  The  Greek,  passion- 
ately fond  of  his  sunny  skies  and  vine-clad  hills,  becomes 
a  fountain  of  beauty;  and  places  virtue  in  exalted  patriot- 
ism. Each  obeys  external  influences.  He,  who  feels 
most  deeply  and  dwells  most  intently  on  the  wrongs  of  the 
slave  or  prisoner,  becomes  a  Wilberforce  or  a  Howard. 
He  who  deplores  most  the  spiritual  bondage  of  man,  be- 
comes a  Luther.  By  a  voluntary  heightening  of  such 
impressions,  these  men  secured  their  permanent  influence 
on  their  hearts  ;  and  petty  and  selfish  interests  died  out. 
Thus  effect  follows  cause  unfailingly  ;  but  the  will  can 
modify  the  cause.  It  is  a  power  given  to  redeem  us  from 
the  bondage  of  circumstance. 

Now  it  is  through  these  impressions,  that  we  are  to  help 
to  develope  the  soul ;  we  may  modify  and  influence  the 
impressions  by  our  expressed  opinion,  and  thus  suggest 
particular  modes  of  acting  ;  but  we  can  never  exercise 


67 

a  direct  influence  on  the  soul.  We  may  give  direction 
to  the  developement,  through  the  objects  and  circumstances 
with  which  we  surround  the  child,  and  by  our  interpreta- 
tion, we  may  modify  first  impressions,  and  leave  new  ones 
on  the  mind.  Thus,  if  a  child  be  timid,  we  may  keep 
from  it  studiously  all  which  can  excite  its  fears,  and 
present  cheerful  objects  ;  or  we  may  take  it  by  the 
hand  through  dark  places,  talking  unconcernedly  all  the 
while,  and  showing  ourselves  fearless;  or  we  can  take  it 
near  some  great  animal,  and  let  it  exhaust  its  fear  and 
wonder,  and  then  say,  "  How  much  mischief  it  might  do, 
if  inclined,  but  it  is  gentle  as  a  lamb  ;"  and  even  induce 
the  child  to  touch  it.  With  a  child  of  little  physical 
strength  and  excitable  nerves,  the  preventive  system  is 
best ;  but  I  believe  that  those  who  can  bear  it,  had  better 
measure  the  danger  at  once. 

Perhaps  I  should  have  spoken  before  of  the  necessity 
of  children's  feeling  perfect  confidence  both  in  the  love  and 
justice  of  those  who  are  around  them  ;  this  is  the  germ  of 
a  higher  faith,  and  is  absolutely  essential  to  educate  them 
even  for  this  world. 

Were  I  to  enumerate  all  which  is  required  in  a  teacher, 
I  might  as  well  draw  a  perfect  character  at  once ;  for 
teaching  engages  to  all  the  virtues.  But  I  am  too  con- 
scious of  my  own  inadequacy,  to  attempt  it.  The  teacher 
should  be  one  of  those  persons  in  whom  the  good  and  true 
appear  agreeable.  It  is  treason  against  virtue,  to  be  good 
without  being  agreeable  ;  that  is,  to  think  obedience  to 
principle,  in  the  great  affairs  of  life,  an  excuse  for  neglect- 
ing the  more  delicate  traits  and  minor  charities  ;  and  when 
the  faults  of  character  are  deficiencies,  and  therefore  less 
appreciable,  the  evil  influence  on  children,  who  cannot  dis- 
criminate, is  incalculable.  A  teacher  must  also  possess 
tact ;  a  quick  eye  for  the  right  moment  to  impart  know- 
ledge, to  praise  and  to  chide.  She  should  have  the  habit 
of  observing  physical  circumstances.  Physical  laws  are 
paramount  with  children  ;  hunger,  thirst,  sleep,  are  on 
them  irresistible  claims  :  it  is  only  when  we  have  more  to 
set  against  them,  that  we  can  ward  them  off  for  a  time. 


68 

Not  enough  regard  is  paid  to  the  physical  peculiarities  of 
children.  A  state  of  rapid  growth  and  change  must  be  a 
state  of  extreme  irritability,  and  occasional  feebleness  ;  and 
this  must  never  for  a  moment  be  disregarded,  or  the  mind 
and  character  will  suffer.  Nothing  contributes  more  to  suc- 
cess with  children  than  a  nice  perception  of  their  state. 
Those  are  happy  whom  Nature  has  thus  favored  ;  others 
must  seek  it  by  becoming  acquainted  with  mental  and 
physical  laws,  by  disinterestedness,  and  by  endeavoring 
to  enter  into  the  feelings  of  others.  We  may  imagine 
how  much  there  is  in  choosing  the  right  moment,  if  we 
observe  a  person  who  always  chooses  the  wrong  one, 
and  represent  to  ourselves  the  influence  on  the  child. 
The  child  is  eager  to  examine  certain  tools,  or  to  watch  a 
glazier,  and  the  mother  calls  it  away  to  listen  to  a  story. 
The  child  is  unwilling  to  leave  the  window  ;  she  urges  it, 
and  perhaps  renders  it  undecided  between  the  two,  which 
is  a  lasting  injury  ;  or  she  prevents  its  becoming  practi- 
cally acquainted  with  what  interested  it,  and  allows  its 
curiosity  to  die  away  without  the  natural  result  of  increased 
knowledge.  I  believe  half  the  indecision  and  unreason- 
ableness in  the  world  is  caused  by  such  injudicious  treat- 
ment ;  and  therefore  I  dread  to  check  or  unsettle  any  thing. 
If  the  balance  in  matters  of  choice  and  expediency,  inclines 
ever  so  little  one  way,  I  throw  my  weight  into  that  scale, 
and  bring  forward  all  the  arguments  on  that  side.  Little 
children  need  this  confirmation  and  support.  I  state  both 
sides  fairly  at  first ;  but  after  a  decision,  I  allow  no  regrets 
or  looking  back.  They  cannot  unite  all  advantages,  and 
they  must  put  those  which  are  unattainable  out  of  their 
thoughts  entirely. 

A  teacher  who  has  this  tact,  will  find  many  opportunities, 
even  with  children  two  or  three  years  old,  to  direct  the  in- 
tellectual activity  ;  and  I  must  confine  myself  to  this  at 
present.  There  is  more  voluntary  and  conscious  action 
upon  the  intellect  than  upon  the  feelings.  The  feelings 
are  only  to  be  kept  alive  in  their  first  freshness.  Perhaps 
we  can  never  be  more  loving  than  children  are,  though  our 
love  may  embrace  a  wider  field,  or  be  more  concentrated  ; 
but  we  can  actually  think  and  know  more. 


69 

We  can  put  children  into  connexion  with  external  things 
through  all  their  senses.  We  can  assist  them  to  recal  past 
occurrences  ;  to  imagine  themselves  in  new  scenes,  and 
their  playthings  turned  into  chariots  and  horsemen.  We 
can  make  them  discriminate,  trace  cause  and  effect,  and 
distinguish  these  from  accidental  sequence.  Size  and  form 
may  he  taught  by  actual  objects.  Let  them  link  each 
new  fact  to  some  old  one,  and  give  it  its  place  in  the 
mind  ;  children's  minds  would  never  become  so  chaotic,  if 
civilized  society  did  not  introduce  many  worthless  things, 
and  keep  out  of  sight  many  that  are  valuable. 

When  their  attention  is  directed  to  some  fact,  children 
will  ask  many  questions  which  it  is  difficult  to  answer. 
They  should  not  for  the  sake  of  making  the  subject  appear 
more  easy,  be  answered  otherwise  than  with  perfect  accu- 
racy. State  the  cause  as  simply  as  you  can  ;  and  if  they 
cannot  understand,  tell  them  they  will,  when  they  have  learn- 
ed more  in  other  ways.  Do  not  expect  to  satisfy  them  ;  leave 
something  for  the  future  ;  this  is  the  condition  of  our  know- 
ledge. Let  your  language  always  be  in  accordance  with  fact, 
and  not  with  vulgar  errors.  Always  speak  of  the  earth  as  a 
globe  moving  round  the  sun.  Invest  the  sun  with  his 
proper  dignity  ;  do  not  let  him  be  a  larger  candle.  Speak 
of  a  month  as  the  time  in  which  the  moon  revolves  round 
the  earth  ;  a  year  as  the  time  the  earth  occupies  in  revolving 
round  the  sun.  Speak  of  the  simple  way  in  which  the  earth 
makes  it  day  and  night  for  little  children  in  different  countries, 
by  constantly  offering  its  different  sides  to  the  sun  ;  and 
then,  at  another  time,  speak  of  it  as  always  rolling  round  the 
sun,  and  being  inclined  so  that  each  country  has  its  different 
seasons.  All  this  will  make  their  ideas  more  clear  when 
they  begin  to  study,  and  they  will  have  none  of  those  mis- 
conceptions which  cling  in  spite  of  conviction.  You  may 
think  this  too  much  for  a  child  four  years  old  j  but  if  you 
observe,  you  will  find  all  children  have  some  ideas  about 
these  luminaries,  and  are  very  inquisitive  about  size,  shape 
and  distance.  The  moment  any  thing  becomes  an  object 
of  perception,  some  notion  of  its  nature,  size,  &tc.,  is  at- 
tached to  it ;  and  it  is  desirable  that  these  first  notions 
should  aid  instead  of  impeding  the  mind.  If  false  concep- 


70 

tions  become  fixed,  the  mind  will  not  easily  part  with 
them,  and  perhaps  will  be  led  to  doubt  other  things  which 
are  true.  The  faculties  are  brought  out  by  stating  things 
thus;  the  thirst  for  knowledge  is  satisfied,  instead  of  ex- 
pending itself  in  a  thousand  trifling  questions  ;  excellent 
tastes  and  habits  are  formed  ;  and  the  actual  power  in- 
creased. As  children  grow  older,  a  greater  variety  of  sub- 
jects may  be  introduced,  and  conversation  may  be  made  a 
preparation  for  the  study  of  the  sciences.  How  easy, 
when  giving  any  thing  to  a  child,  to  remark  on  its  shape,  and 
its  difference  from  other  bodies ;  to  ask  if  it  is  bounded  by 
straight  lines  or  curves.  Let  it  observe  that  the  straight 
side  is  always  shorter  than  the  crooked  one  ;  that  all  curves 
resemble  a  ball,  and  when  laid  on  a  flat  table,  touch 
it  in  only  one  spot,  while  straight  sides  cut  each  other,  and 
make  sharp  corners  or  angles.  Show  a  bit  of  wood  and  a 
bit  of  lead,  and  make  the  child  observe  how  much  heavier 
one  is  than  the  other,  and  ask  which  would  be  the  largest, 
an  ounce  of  wood,  or  an  ounce  of  lead.  Fix  the  distinction 
between  the  weight  of  a  thing,  or  the  force  with  which  the 
earth  draws  it,  and  the  volume  of  a  thing,  or  the  space  it 
occupies.  Ask  how  many  sides  a  cube  has — make  the 
child  show  that  it  must  have  two  to  contain  its  length,  two 
its  breadth,  two  its  thickness.  Ask  which  will  have  the 
longest  sides,  an  ounce  of  iron  cast  in  a  six  or  an  eight- 
sided  form.  Set  two  of  the  children  running,  to  show 
parallel  lines  going  on  harmoniously.  Take  two  of  dif- 
ferent tastes,  and  represent  them  as  starting  together,  but 
constantly  diverging  ;  and  show  how  two,  who  from  opposite 
places  perceive  an  object,  hasten  toward  it  in  converging 
lines.  You  can  say,  here  is  Fanny  going  from  me  to  her  seat ; 
she  has  described  a  straight  line  ;  Sarah  would  have  de- 
scribed a  parallel  one,  but  she  was  attracted  by  the  flowers 
on  the  mantel-piece,  deviated  insensibly,  and  performed  an 
irregular  curve,  and  therefore  reached  her  seat  later  —  for 
a  straight  line  is  the  shortest  in  the  physical,  and  also  in 
the  intellectual  and  moral  world. 

Every  child  should  have  blocks  or  counters,  that  he  may 
practise  numbers.  He  can  count  them  into  bands  of  five 
and  ten,  and  then  consider  the  collections  as  units,  and 


count  out  five  fives  or  five  tens.  He  will  practise  this  for 
ever,  if  a  little  life  is  put  into  it.  You  can  say,  "  I  am 
tired  of  these  little  companies  of  tens,  I  mean  to  have  a 
hundred  in  each  company,  and  get  as  many  as  I  can  mus- 
ter." Then  you  can  extend  his  ambition  to  a  regiment,  to 
an  army,  only  let  him  get  the  power  of  treating  hundreds, 
thousands,  &.C.,  as  units.  In  the  same  way  let  him  divide 
whole  numbers,  until  he  looks  upon  a  unit  as  a  collection 
of  parts,  large  or  small,  as  we  please  to  make  them. 

"  Mamma,  I  have  a  great  many  robins  to-day  and  only 
one  cake  :  how  shall  I  divide  it  ?  "  Divide  it  into  as  many 
equal  parts  as  you  have  robins,  and  tell  me  what  share  each 
will  have.  "  Oh  mamma,  to-day  I  have  but  three  robins; 
to-day  each  will  be  satisfied."  And  again,  "  To-day  I  have 
six  robins  and  two  cakes  ;  will  they  have  more  than  they 
had  yesterday,  or  not  so  much  ? "  It  is  very  unwise 
to  put  off  fractions  so  late  as  we  usually  do,  in  teach- 
ing arithmetic.  They  are  as  simple  and  as  important 
as  whole  numbers  ;  the  dividing  of  a  whole  thing  ap- 
peals to  children's  senses  as  much  as  the  adding  of  separate 
things. 

When  walking,  let  children  make  some  geographical  ob- 
servations. They  can  probably  find  sufficient  variety  of 
land  and  water  to  afford  assistance  to  the  conceptive  faculty. 
Let  them  define  actual  objects,  however  small ;  apply  the 
name  of  shore,  and  observe  whether  it  is  steep  or  sloping 
—  whether  it  has  bays,  capes  and  promontories,  or  runs  in 
an  unbroken  line.  Let  them  make  miniature  islands  and 
lakes.  If  they  live  near  a  brook,  let  them  observe  that  its 
waters  flow  into  a  river,  and  thence  into  the  sea.  Many 
children  think,  as  the  ancients  fabled,  that  streams  are 
the  offspring  of  the  ocean  :  and  they  are  often  perplexed 
about  their  direction  and  mouth.  In  the  spring,  when  the 
snow  melts,  plenty  of  rills  make  their  way  downward,  uniting 
and  swelling,  until  they  find  a  recipient  of  their  waters. 
I  remember  the  delight  with  which  I  used  to  watch  these 
mimic  rivers  ;  and  I  suppose  it  is  pleasant  to  most  children. 
Let  them  see  that  the  slightest  inclination,  is  sufficient  to 
determine  their  course,  but  that  then  they  roll  lazily  along ; 
while  those  which  find  a  steep  descent,  tumble  and  hurry 


72 

down,  wearing  deep  channels.  Let  them  stop  the  course 
of  a  stream  and  make  a  lake,  and  then  let  the  lake  burst 
through  and  make  a  torrent  and  a  waterfall  ;  and  in  short, 
try  with  it  all  the  experiments  which  Nature  performs  on  a 
large  scale. 

Then  let  them  observe  hills,  valleys,  and  level  spots; 
well-watered  and  fertile  plains,  and  barren  sands.  Notice 
the  different  vegetations  of  different  soils  and  situations  ; 
the  large-stemmed  and  juicy-leaved  plants  of  the  meadows  ; 
the  slender  compact  stems  of  those  on  the  hills,  fitted  to 
yield  to  the  winds.  All  these  observations  help  to  distinct 
ideas  of  physical  geography,  and  are  something  actually 
seen,  to  refer  to  when  it  is  taken  up  as  a  study. 

Let  children  early  classify  objects,  first  generally,  accord- 
ing to  the  more  obvious  differences  ;  then  by  the  minor  dis- 
tinctions. First  lead  by  your  questions,  then  demand  a  good 
definition  without  any  questions.  Linnaeus  has  said  that 
fourteen  Latin  words  are  sufficient  to  give  all  the  dis- 
tinguishing characteristics  of  each  plant.  Almost  every  one 
of  these  words  is  an  answer  to  an  imagined  question.  Ask 
how  many  hard  things  there  are  in  the  room  —  how  many 
of  these  are  metals — how  many  metals  are  bright  —  what 
are  their  common  uses.  If  a  child  goes  to  a  menagerie, 
ask,  how  many  of  the  animals  were  quadrupeds  —  how 
many  had  claws,  horns,  shaggy  hair,  &c.  Ask  if  any  two 
species  were  precisely  alike,  and  in  what  consisted  the  dif- 
ference. Let  a  child  mention  all  the  things  in  the  room 
which  belonged  originally  to  animals,  or  to  vegetables,  or 
that  consist  of  inorganized  matter ;  which  of  these  has  man 
altered,  and  how;  how  are  vegetables  and  animals  known 
from  other  bodies  ;  do  vegetables  ever  run  about,  or  drag 
people  in  carriages  ;  do  they  love  people  and  seem  grate- 
ful for  care.  All  things  are  in  a  state  of  change,  increasing 
and  growing  ;  is  the  process  the  same  with  all  ?  See  that 
heap  of  sand  ;  it  is  larger  than  it  was  yesterday  —  how  did 
it  increase  ? — has  it  kept  its  form,  and  spread,  as  a  calf  grows 
into  a  cow?  —  has  it  new  properties  and  organs,  because  it 
is  larger  ?  Is  there  any  thing  like  flowers  or  fruit  developed  ? 
—  can  you  predict  what  its  shape  will  be  to-morrow,  if  it 
becomes  larger? — or  will  it  have  new  particles  added  to 


73 

its  length  or  breadth,  on  whichever  side  the  winds  deposit 
them  ?  Here  are  two  geraniums :  gardener,  give  this  a 
little  water,  and  leave  the  other  untouched  ;  we  want  to 
see  if  the  wind  will  bring  more  leaves,  and  add  to  these, 
as  it  carried  sand  to  the  sand-bank  ?  No  —  the  wind  has 
taken  no  heed  of  this  poor  geranium  ;  it  has  drooped ; 
but  the  other  has  grown.  "What  tall  shoots  !  what  broad 
leaves!  Has  the  wind  added  any  thing  to  it?  Are  there 
any  seams  in  the  leaves  and  stem  ?  No  ;  they  are  whole  ; 
nothing  has  been  joined  on  the  outside,  but  something 
has  been  drawn  up  inside  :  the  water  which  the  gardener 
gave  it,  was  taken  by  its  little  mouths,  into  the  roots,  and 
has  passed  up  and  helped  to  form  broad  leaves  and  stems. 
If  we  had  given  the  sand-bank  water,  would  the  sand  have 
grown  ?  No  ;  it  would  have  increased  by  the  addition  of 
the  water ;  but  it  could  not  have  made  the  particles  of 
water  change  their  nature  for  its  own.  But  the  plant  and 
the  animal  do  this. 

How  can  you  distinguish  the  animal  from  the  vegetable  ? 
Here  is  a  strawberry-vine,  let  us  examine  it :  here  is  a 
long  slender  body  supported  at  each  extremity  by  many 
little  props.  Are  they  legs  ?  has  it  eyes  or  ears  ?  or  any 
senses  to  put  it  in  connexion  with  the  external  world  ?  is 
there  any  appearance  of  choice  in  it?  No  !  it  knows  no- 
thing of  other  bodies  ;  cannot  desire  to  approach  or  avoid 
them  ;  it  is  wholly  occupied  with  getting  its  own  living, 
and  bearing  Brobdignag  strawberries.  Here  is  a  spectrum, 
an  insect  not  uncommon  in  woods,  but  seldom  detected,  from 
its  close  resemblance  to  the  plants  to  which  it  clings.  Un- 
less we  saw  it  moving,  we  should  never  imagine  it  to  be 
more  than  a  bundle  of  thorns  and  straws,  loosely  put  to- 
gether ;  it  is  the  insect  which,  for  a  long  time,  made  it 
credible  that  sticks  walked  about,  and  sprouted  legs.  But 
it  has  eyes  and  legs  ;  it  is  attracted  and  repelled  by  many 
external  circumstances,  and  fills  its  short  life  by  many 
voluntary  goings  and  comings,  and  enjoyments  unknown  to 
us.  Even  the  lowest  animals  have  some  senses,  some 
sensibilities,  some  choice,  and  generally  they  have  the 
power  of  moving  and  obtaining  variety.  They  are  lighter 
and  more  flexible,  and  can  exist  without  food  longer  than 
7 


74 

plants.  Every  thing  about  them  is  adapted  to  their  mode 
of  life.  What  a  funny  world  it  would  be,  if  all  the  animals 
stood  still,  and  all  the  plants  walked  about  !  Imagine  a 
landscape  composed  of  an  elephant,  a  dromedary,  a  bevy 
of  ostriches,  and  a  group  of  monkeys,  all  rooted  to  the 
ground  ;  while  the  oaks,  and  stately  palms,  and  swarms  of 
herbs  and  flowers,  sallied  forth  to  take  the  air.  Think  of 
meeting  a  tall  prickly  cactus,  in  a  narrow  place  ;  or  a  banian 
tree,  promenading  with  its  innumerable  progeny.  You 
might  lie  down  under  a  shady  beech,  and  before  you  were 
aware  of  it,  your  canopy  might  travel  out  of  sight.  Besides, 
how  would  the  animals  get  food,  if  they  stood  still  ?  Would 
the  vegetables  come  to  be  eaten  ?  And  how  would  the 
plants  get  water,  if  the  roots,  with  all  their  little  sponges, 
were  out  of  the  ground.  Oh,  it  would  be  very  incon- 
venient for  both  parties.  The  trees  had  better  stand  still, 
and  pump  up  their  sap,  to  spread  out  into  shady  boughs ; 
and  the  animals  had  better  run  about,  and  play,  and  eat, 
and  sleep,  as  they  fancy.  All  is  right,  all  is  for  the  best, 
and  exquisitely  adapted  ;  there  is  nothing  we  can  change  ; 
we  have  only  to  learn  how  things  are ! 


XII. 

Mr  DEAR  MART  : 

THERE  is  one  practice  I  require  at  the  earliest  age  ;  that 
of  repeating  after  me.  It  prepares  for  speaking  and  reading 
elegantly,  and  for  that  accomplishment  open  to  all,  of  re- 
peating poetry,  in  an  expressive  and  interesting  manner. 
All  cannot  charm  with  bright  original  thoughts,  or  sweet 
notes,  but  all  may  soothe  and  delight  with  the  best  crea- 
tions of  others  ;  all  may  have  a  store  of  delicate  thoughts, 
with  which  to  while  away  the  long  watches  of  the  night,  or 
cheer  the  sick-room,  the  twilight  hours,  or  seasons  of  an- 
guish, when  no  other  solace  is  possible.  I  have  heard,  that  in 
Europe,  persons,  who  have  no  other  gift  or  accomplishment, 


75 

cultivate  this.  It  is  not  only  an  easy  means  of  giving  plea- 
sure, but  of  great  influence  in  refining  the  taste.  I  am  very 
careful  to  avoid  the  ordinary,  and  present  the  lofty,  beau- 
tiful, and  suggestive  ;  believing  that  even  in  the  apparently 
unsubstantial  domain  of  taste  effect  follows  cause  unfailingly  ; 
that,  the  greater  variety  of  culture  we  bestow,  the  finer  and 
more  graceful  will  be  the  growth.  These  minor  pre- 
ferences, which  constitute  taste,  especially  take  the  form  of 
that  which  surrounds  them.  An  immense  moral  feeling, 
a  stricken  conscience,  or  genius  gathering  up  its  inward 
might,  will  sometimes  burst  through  the  mould,  but  the 
power  of  the  mould  over  points  of  taste  and  mariners,  is 
absolute  ;  every  twig,  every  leaf,  nay,  every  vein  and 
downy  spire,  owes  its  form  to  it.  I  do  not  say  that  all 
persons,  surrounded  by  the  same  books  and  company,  will 
have  equally  nice  literary  taste  ;  but  that  the  taste  and 
acquirements  of  each  person  will  be  elegant  or  otherwise, 
according  to  surrounding  influences.  At  one  time  much  of 
the  poetic  power  of  England  ran  into  conceits ;  again  it 
took  a  didactic  and  highly  polished  form.  Its  tendency 
varies  in  each  age,  proving  that  some  general  cause,  foreign 
to  organization,  directs  it. 

You  know  there  are  birds,  who  ever  after  repeat  that 
sound  of  the  human  voice  which  they  first  heard  ;  and 
children  have  the  same  impressibility.  Their  pertinacity  in 
their  first  blunders  proves  the  fact,  and  gives  us  a  hint  to 
avail  ourselves  of  it.  Every  infant  should  have  the  name 
of  each  thing  sounded  to  it,  in  a  clear  and  agreeable  tone. 
It  should  be  encouraged  to  repeat  names  and  words,  until 
it  pronounces  them  as  well  as  it  can  ;  and  should  never  be 
satisfied  with  merely  making  itself  understood.  Do  not  let  a 
child  be  left  to  chance  to  pick  up  a  language  ;  but  fre- 
quently encourage  it  to  practice  upon  short  sentences,  vary- 
ing the  tone  and  expression.  When  three  years  old  it  will 
be  able  to  repeat  simple  stories  after  you,  a  few  words  at  a 
time,  copying  tone,  accent,  and  pronunciation  exactly. 
When  it  has  repeated  several,  it  is  better  to  read  aloud,  and 
to  read  the  same  thing  over  and  over,  until  both  words  and 
meaning  are  understood.  Never  pass  on,  and  let  it  be  sa- 
tisfied with  half  understanding.  Let  it  hear  as  much  good 


76 

reading  as  possible,  and  never  any  which  is  incorrect.  Let 
it  learn  the  delight  of  a  book  ;  and  make  the  ear  and 
enunciation  nice.  Then  comes  a  time  when  you  are  en- 
gaged, and.  you  tell  the  child  he  must  learn  to  read  for 
himself.  After  this  has  happened  several  times,  and  you 
have  told  him  that  you  wish  to  teach  him  to  read,  but  it 
is  more  difficult  than  any  thing  he  ever  did,  and  you 
are  not  willing  he  should  begin  unless  he  will  persevere, 
he  will  become  too  eager,  to  be  deterred  by  slight  diffi- 
culties. By  one  means  or  another  he  learns  his  letters. 
T  do  not  believe  any  one  of  the  numerous  plans  can  be 
considered  best  for  all.  Some  children  have  quick  eyes 
and  soon  learn  the  characters  ;  others  never  blunder  in  the 
sound,  but  cannot  attach  it  to  the  character:  and  some 
are  very  slow  in  perceiving  either  form  or  sound,  but 
never  forget  it  when  it  is  once  their  own.  The  child 
must  learn  each  letter  thoroughly  by  his  own  efforts : 
you  have  only  to  aid  him  wherever  he  finds  difficulty. 
This  done,  I  would  let  him  practice  as  much  as  he  can 
without  fatigue  ;  and  would  read  the  letters  with  him  a 
great  deal,  and  let  him  point.  In  short,  I  would  do 
every  thing  to  smooth  this  difficult  passage.  I  should  still 
read  aloud  a  great  deal,  and  let  him  repeat,  that  he  may 
not,  by  the  difficulty  of  spelling,  be  led  to  read  badly. 
I  should  correct  every  fault  the  first  time,  and  every  time, 
and  never  consider  any  fault  incorrigible.  I  should  never 
let  him  read  aloud  when  alone,  for  fear  of  fixing  some  pe- 
culiarity. I  would  urge  the  learning  of  poetry  ;  and  the 
learning  to  spell  a  great  many  easy  words. 

I  am  sure  that  every  moment  thus  carefully  devoted  to 
the  introduction  of  any  branch,  is  so  much  time  and  per- 
plexity saved  for  the  future.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  I 
think  a  school  for  children  under  six  years  of  age,  should 
be  small  in  number,  and  the  teacher  as  well  recompensed 
as  for  older  pupils.  The  individual  difficulties  require 
separate  treatment  at  first ;  the  numbers  of  a  school  may 
increase  with  the  age  of  the  pupils  ;  and  if  they  are  well 
trained  in  every  period,  at  last  the  teacher  is  needed  merely 
as  a  guide  in  the  studies,  and  a  support  to  the  often  uncer- 
tain perseverance  of  the  young. 


77 

Not  much  need  be  said  of  reading,  after  the  first  steps, 
though  it  occupies  more  time,  and  requires  more  attention 
than  any  study.  It  is  needless  to  enlarge  upon  its  impor- 
tance, for  all  acknowledge  it,  though  so  few  excel  in  the 
art.  At  first  I  let  the  children  read  simple  tales  and  dia- 
logues ;  afterward,  history  alternately  with  poetry.  Reading 
consumes  a  great  many  of  the  school  hours  ;  I  therefore 
make  it  subservient  to  history.  I  relate  anecdotes  and 
customs,  and  make  them  compare  one  nation  with  another, 
and  observe  how  customs  grow  out  of  climate,  and  are 
brought  from  one  country  to  another,  and  are  retained  when 
their  peculiar  fitness  has  ceased.  We  have  our  map  and 
our  table  of  chronology  before  us,  and  refer  to  them  fre- 
quently. When  about  six  years  old,  the  children  learn  short 
lessons  in  the  history  we  have  thus  read  over.  They  learn 
important  names  and  dates,  and  give  the  meaning,  but 
not  the  words  of  the  author.  I  begin  this  exercise  early, 
because  young  children  give  a  story  in  their  own  words 
with  great  ease  ;  while  those  of  eleven  years,  find  it  very 
difficult,  unless  they  have  previously  practiced.  Most 
children  of  six,  when  they  understand  what  is  required,  will 
learn  a  chapter  by  reading  it  three  times.  If  we  have  not 
read  the  history  recently,  I  always  give  out  the  next 
lesson,  as  soon  the  last  is  recited.  I  notice  any  thing  par- 
ticularly important  or  obscure,  and  perhaps  tell  anecdotes 
about  it.  The  next  day  they  learn,  and  the  day  after, 
recite  it.  I  always  hear  the  previous  lesson  a  second 
time.  I  prefer  this  to  a  general  review,  because  it  fixes 
what  they  have  learned,  just  as  it  is  in  danger  of  being  for- 
gotten. Almost  all  my  lessons  are  given  out  and  explained 
one  day,  and  studied  the  next,  and  recited  the  third,  and 
then  more  or  less  thoroughly  recited  a  second  time.  Will 
you  remember  this  in  the  hasty  accounts  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  give  you  ? 


7* 


78 


XIII. 

MY  DEAR  MARY  : 

SPELLING  faultlessly,  and  writing  with  ease,  are  the  next 
requisites  of  a  polite  education  ;  a  person,  therefore,  feels 
ashamed  who  is  not  skilled  in  these.  Considered  as  to 
their  effect  on  the  mind,  they  have  but  a  secondary  value, 
the  value  of  a  discipline  ;  they  do  not  add  to  knowledge 
or  suggest  thought.  To  spell  perfectly,  requires  great 
practice  and  accurate  habits.  I  have  daily  lessons  in  a 
spelling-book  and  in  a  common  book.  The  latter  teaches 
the  participles  and  compound  words,  and  a  much  greater 
variety  than  the  spelling-book.  The  children  also  recite 
definitions  ;  I  explain  the  words,  and  use  them  in  sentences, 
before  they  are  studied  ;  and  the  older  ones  look  for  words 
in  a  dictionary.  Those  who  are  able,  write  dictated  les- 
sons, observing  all  the  capitals,  points,  &c.  This  exercise 
is  a  favorite  one,  and  it  is  needed  ;  for  many  persons  are 
puzzled  in  writing  a  word,  who  can  spell  it  at  another 
time.  But  little  can  be  said  about  spelling,  though  the 
actual  study  occupies  a  great  deal  of  time  ;  but  all  the  time 
expended  in  study  is  gained  in  recitation.  Sometimes  I 
show  by  the  watch,  how  quickly  a  hundred  words,  well 
learned,  may  be  spelled  ;  or  a  Latin  verb  or  vocabulary 
lesson,  or  any  lesson  not  requiring  explanation,  may  be 
recited.  That  is  a  well-ordered  school,  in  which  the  actual 
recitation  of  the  scholars  takes  but  little  time  ;  at  the  same 
time  the  frequent  interruption  of  the  recitations,  by  expla- 
nations and  illustrations,  is  the  best  proof  of  the  interest  of 
the  teacher.  In  all  the  lessons,  I  direct  attention  to  the 
spelling  of  difficult  words.  I  show  their  derivation  and 
formation  and  signification  ;  also  when  they  are  the  same, 
or  slightly  varied,  in  other  languages.  I  have  heard  lately 
of  a  very  interesting  exercise  for  those  who  know  several 
languages.  It  is  to  read  from  a  large  dictionary  all  that  is 
known  of  the  derivation  of  the  words  and  of  their  different 
significations.  When  girls  are  to  be  thoroughly  trained  in 


79 

other  languages,  so  much  spelling  of  English  words  is  not 
Deeded.  But  it  is  very  well  to  acquire  skill  in  this,  and 
in  writing,  early,  before  it  is  known  how  much  more  in- 
teresting other  studies  are  ;  for  these  exercises  are  insup- 
portable to  older  girls,  whose  minds  are  advanced  ;  and 
are  never  so  accurately  learned  as  in  childhood. 

A  pencil  is  one  of  the  first  playthings  a  child  fancies, 
and  great  use  may  be  made  of  this  taste,  by  one  who  has 
skill.  If  the  child  can  get  sufficient  command  of  the  pen- 
cil to  print  the  letters  as  they  are  learned,  it  interests  him, 
and  facilitates  his  learning  them.  I  would  let  him  print  as 
much  and  as  long  as  he  pleases  ;  it  gives  a  distinct  remem- 
brance of  the  letter,  and  prepares  for  a  clear  and  legible  hand. 
When  he  can  print  perfectly  well,  and  begins  to  be  tired  of 
it,  let  him  gradually  change  to  a  round  joined  hand,  without 
losing  the  upright  legible  character.  You  must  be  very 
careful  to  prevent  bad  habits,  and  inculcate  the  good  habit 
of  making  each  copy  better  than  the  preceding.  I  find 
children  need  a  great  deal  of  encouragement  in  writing ; 
their  eyes  are  very  quick  to  detect  their  own  faults,  and 
they  are  often  discouraged  by  the  numerous  difficulties. 
The  blots,  erasures,  and  spatters,  excite  more  feeling  than 
they  deserve ;  and  I  often  have  to  say  that  I  do  not 
expect  them  to  write  well  ;  I  only  expect  them  to  try ;  if 
they  could  write  well,  they  would  not  need  to  practice 
writing.  This  argument,  that  it  is  the  difficult  and  un- 
known which  is  to  be  learned,  I  often  use,  particularly  with 
new  scholars.  I  ask  them  if  they  wish  to  pass  their  lives 
in  going  over  and  over  the  things  they  know,  or  if  they 
wish  to  learn  the  things  they  do  not  know,  and  which  are 
therefore  difficult  ?  I  interest  them  in  their  copies  :  write 
proverbs,  short  and  pithy,  on  the  black-board,  and  explain 
them  ;  or  give  corresponding  proverbs  in  two  or  three  lan- 
guages, to  be  copied  :  or  I  write  the  name  and  country  and 
date  of  some  celebrated  man,  and  tell  a  little  story  about 
him.  I  let  them  copy  the  poetry  they  are  to  learn,  and 
French  words  and  phrases.  I  try  in  all  ways  to  lighten 
the  tediousness  of  the  handwriting.  I  praise  those  who 
write  well,  and  try  to  keep  up  the  standard  of  writing  in 
school. 


80 


XIV. 

Mr  DEAR  MARY  : 

I  FIND  a  great  difference  among  my  pupils  as  to  their  fond- 
ness for  arithmetic.  The  older  girls  are  very  averse  to  it. 
I  think  they  cannot  have  outgrown  it :  for  it  never  ceased 
to  be  a  very  attractive  and  satisfactory  study  to  me  ;  I  had 
so  much  satisfaction  in  entering  into  the  laws  of  numbers, 
and  working  under  and  with  them.  But  my  girls  do  not 
feel  this  :  they  are  pleased  to  cipher  a  little  ;  pleased  to 
answer  a  few  questions  in  mental  arithmetic  ;  but  if  I  fol- 
low it  up,  greater  inattention  and  weariness  are  shown  than 
in  any  other  study.  This  is  not  the  case  with  the  little 
ones  :  not  a  recitation  is  made,  but  I  am  called  upon  to  en- 
joy some  new  discovery  in  numbers.  The  older  girls 
probably  felt  this  pleasure  when  they  first  perceived  the 
facts  ;  and  if  these  had  not  remained  isolated,  but  had  been 
referred  to  other  relations  of  numbers,  and  their  depen- 
dence and  agreement  shown,  the  first  pleasure  would  have 
become  more  deep  and  lasting. 

I  can  remember  when  such  facts  as  that  nine  added  to  a 
number  of  two  figures  makes  the  unit  figure  one  less  than 
at  first,  gave  me  absolute  pleasure,  and  often  came  into  my 
thoughts  out  of  school.  There  are  many  such  facts  not 
worth  writing,  but  serviceable  in  quickening  the  percep- 
tions of  children  :  such  as  that  two  even  numbers  added, 
always  make  an  even  one  ;  an  even  and  an  odd  one 
make  an  odd  one,  and  two  odd  ones  make  an  even  one, 
because  the  two  odd  units  are  added  together  and  become 
even  ;  that  if  it  is  asked  how  many  times  3  in  4  X  6, 
as  3  is  half  of  6  it  must  be  taken  twice  as  often,  and  the 
other  factor  must  be  doubled.  I  mention  these  examples 
to  show  you  of  what  slight  things  I  avail  myself  to  interest 
them. 

I  also  state  the  uses  of  numbers  in  common  life ; 
that  by  keeping  accounts  we  are  able  to  be  honest :  that 
we  use  numbers  in  building  houses,  railroads,  in  navigation, 


astronomy,  and  in  calculating  all  powers  and  forces. 
And  I  have  thus  become  aware  of  my  own  ignorance  of 
what  we  call  numbers.  How  limited  is  the  knowledge  of 
them  contained  in  books  !  How  many  relations  and  forces 
exist  among  the  worlds  above  of  which  we  cannot  con- 
ceive !  I  have  the  strangest  feeling  when  I  try  to  embrace 
or  fathom  the  whole  of  any  subject.  I  have  hold  of  one 
end,  and  the  other  stretches  into  infinity.  It  is  wonderful 
that  in  the  small  portion  we  know,  all  should  be  so  or- 
derly, so  unfailing :  we  might  expect  unknown  laws  to 
come  in  and  disturb  the  action  of  those  we  know. 

But  if  arithmetic  is  valuable  as  a  training,  it  is  more  so 
as  leading  to  the  perception  of  order. 

Order  is  congenial  to  the  mind,  inspires  confidence,  gives 
repose.  Therefore  we  should  always  present  arithmetical 
facts  as  symmetrical  proportions  and  harmonious  relations  of 
the  great  whole.  We  thus  not  only  give  intellectual  gratifi- 
cation but  intellectual  training.  The  mind  imitates  what 
it  admires,  and  lives  according  to  its  own  analogous  laws. 

Every  time  that  a  child  perceives  that  any  portion  of 
the  universe  moves  according  to  principles,  submits  to  laws, 
he  receives  an  impression  more  lively  than  we  can  create 
by  our  voluntary  influence  ;  he  is  elevated  ;  he  perceives 
the  beauty  and  value  of  law,  without  reference  to  himself; 
while  if  we  seek  to  acquaint  him  with  the  law  in  his  own 
case,  we  may  excite  resistance  and  suspicion  of  our  motives. 

Numbers  and  geometry,  and  even  pure  mathematics, 
seem  scarcely  in  themselves  to  form  a  science.  They  are 
rather  a  consideration  of  certain  phenomena  in  the  other 
sciences,  set  apart  from  their  results,  and  treated  in  the 
abstract.  As  thought  is  so  much  quicker  than  action,  we 
reach  results  at  a  glance  which  it  would  be  tedious  to  work 
out  in  matter  ;  and  can  pass  on  to  truths  which  would  be 
quite  beyond  us,  were  the  understanding  obliged  to  wait 
upon  the  senses. 

Numbers  and  proportions  are  the  skeleton  of  Nature, 
and  having  once  acknowledged  their  fitness  we  take  little 
interest  in  repeating  our  operations  ;  but  in  Nature,  whose 
rules  these  numbers  represent,  we  are  never  weary  of  tracing 
their  presence.  We  ask  eagerly  of  each  new  chemical  sub- 


82 

stance,  its  multiple ;  will  it  also  submit  to  the  laws  of  defi- 
nite proportion.  We  pull  the  flower  in  pieces,  to  see  if  the 
number  of  the  stamens  is  a  multiple  of  the  number  of  the 
petals,  and  the  number  of  the  petals  a  multiple  of  that  of 
the  sepals.  We  unwind  the  cone  of  the  fir-tree,  to  trace 
the  law  of  spirals,  which  brings  round  its  scales  each  to  its 
appointed  place.  Does  a  new  orb  become  visible  in  the 
depths  of  space  ?  A  hundred  telescopes  are  pointed  to 
verify  upon  it  known  laws,  and  study  the  new  illustration 
of  them  which  it  affords. 

Doubtless,  each  relation  and  proportion  of  numbers  has 
in  Nature  its  fit  working  ;  introduces  variety,  secures  sym- 
metry and  harmony  of  sound  form  and  color.  Science  recog- 
nizes new  instances  of  this  every  day.  The  fluid  particles  of 
the  future  crystal  move  over  each  other  without  settled  form, 
until  a  new  law  enters  ;  then  pole  flies  to  pole ;  beautiful, 
regular,  lasting  shapes  ensue.  Heat,  light,  gravitation,  all  the 
powers  which  radiate,  teach  us  squares  and  cubes  ;  chemistry 
teaches  progressions,  astronomy  still  more  intricate  opera- 
tions. Could  I  bring  to  my  teachings  the  countless  manifes- 
tations of  these,  did  I  even  know  as  much  as  I  might  have 
known,  there  would  be  no  more  weariness.  But  I  was  always 
satisfied,  when  by  verifying  a  few  instances,  I  reached  the 
law.  I  then  knocked  away  my  scaffolding,  and  went  in 
search  of  something  else.  Now  that  I  wish  to  interest 
young  persons,  who  do  not  yet  love  the  law  for  its  own 
sake,  I  feel  a  great  want  of  beautiful  natural  expressions  of 
the  law.  Some  children  cannot  receive  the  law  by  itself; 
others  receive  it,  and  are  too  well  contented  with  its  bar- 
renness. I  wish  to  show  it  to  them  all  gorgeous  and  com- 
plete, so  that  if  one  manifestation  finds  a  deaf  ear,  another 
may  meet  a  willing  one.  The  great  charm  of  the  natural 
sciences  is  in  this  two-fold  feeling ;  satisfaction  in  the  law, 
and  delight  in  its  embodying.  If  we  are  ignorant  of  law, 
Nature  remains  a  mere  mass  of  facts,  and  restricted  even  in 
these:  if  we  neglect  the  beautiful  outward  facts,  law  loses 
sublimity  and  interest.  As  long  as  man  possesses  both  soul 
and  senses,  he  must  interpret  Nature  through  both  :  he 
must  keep  the  abstract  present  to  his  intellect,  and  the 
concrete  to  his  eye. 


Numbers  are  a  portion  of  the  law  forcibly  severed  from 
the  rest,  and  from  their  natural  expressions  ;  and  only  one 
small  corner  of  them  is  taught  in  school ;  that  which  is 
useful  in  every  day  life.  Consequently,  instead  of  en- 
larging, this  study  is  apt  to  narrow,  the  mind.  The 
faculties  being  fixed  so  long  on  microscopic  objects,  lose 
their  original  boundless  vision  :  they  are  made  acute,  it  is 
true,  and  find  satisfaction  in  their  little  portion  of  the  law ; 
t}ut  this  is  a  trifle  compared  to  their  birthright. 

By  giving  so  much  time  to  numbers  as  is  often  done,  we 
treat  the  child  like  a  prisoner ;  we  make  him  con  the  nar- 
row walls  of  a  cell,  when  the  universe  should  be  open  to 
him. 

Let  the  captive,  in  the  lonely  Spielberg,  obtain  for  the 
solace  of  his  weary  days,  an  hour-glass  :  with  what  interest 
he  watches  the  swift  descent  of  the  sand,  and  notes  on  his 
prison  floor  the  progress  of  the  sun  during  each  period ! 
What  important  inferences  can  he  draw  from  the  unfailing 
daily  accomplishment  of  these  two  coinciding  phenomena ! 
It  proves  to  him  that  the  relations  between  the  sun  and 
earth  are  regulated  by  law,  and  that  the  descent  of  the 
smallest  particle  to  earth  is  no  less  subject  to  a  fixed  law. 
Even  from  this  small  page  of  Nature,  he  learns  the  unfail- 
ing certainty  of  law,  and  the  prompt  obedience  of  matter. 

It  is  because  Nature  thus  repeats  her  lessons,  that  some 
persons  deem  it  unimportant  what  a  child  studies,  and  re- 
gard only  the  developement  of  his  powers,  and  the  train- 
ing and  habits  he  receives.  I  cannot  but  consider  that  the 
nature  of  the  subjects  first  presented,  will  materially  in- 
fluence his  developement ;  and  for  this  reason  I  think  arith- 
metic, as  it  is  usually  taught,  occupies  too  much  time.  By 
directing  attention  to  the  law,  we  obviate  this  objection. 
I  like  to  present  law,  whether  in  morals,  science,  or  num- 
bers, as  Fate  itself;  descending  like  an  armed  man  into  the 
kingdom  of  matter,  and  working  itself  out  in  every  jot  and 
tittle. 

I  announce  a  law  of  proportion,  give  an  example,  and 
state  that  it  must  always  be  so.  I  bid  the  children  vary  the 
numbers,  the  mere  things,  in  any  way  they  can  devise,  and 


84 

the  law  comes,  swift,  irresistible,  and  all  must  conform.  I 
lead  them  very  early  to  separate  the  proportions  and  rela- 
tions from  the  particular  numbers,  and  to  observe  that  the 
law  lasts,  though  these  are  changed.  I  teach  them  a 
childish  sort  of  algebra  :  let  them  imagine  conditions  for 
unknown  numbers,  and  operate  on  them  ;  and  then  they 
substitute  one  set  and  another,  and  find  the  answer  true  for 
all. 

But  I  must  hasten  to  the  strictly  practical  part  of  my 
teaching.  When  the  children  can  count,  ascending  and 
descending  to  any  extent,  I  ask  how  we  shall  express  these 
numbers.  Shall  we  write  as  many  marks  as  there  are  units, 
or  shall  we  have  a  different  character  for  each  number? 
How  long  would  it  take  to  count  the  strokes,  or  to  learn  a 
million  of  characters  ?  Could  the  mind  grasp  so  many  ? 

Then  I  say,  "  If  they  will  be  very  attentive,  I  will  teach 
them  to  express  all  numbers,  by  only  ten  characters, 
arranged  in  different  ways.  I  let  them  practice  with  these 
until  they  can  use  them  readily  ;  for  in  arithmetic  particu- 
larly, one  obstacle  at  a  time  is  enough. 

After  fixing  in  their  minds  that  every  right-hand  figure 
is  a  unit,  I  say :  "  Now  I  am  going  to  have  a  column  of 
tens  standing  on  the  left  of  my  units :  remember,  none 
must  come  into  this  second  row  but  tens,  for  they  will  all 
change  into  tens  the  moment  they  enter." 

They  now  practice  addition  :  at  first  very  thoroughly  in 
the  head  and  then  on  the  slate  :  they  write  and  recite  ad- 
dition tables,  counting  them  each  time. 

Then  I  give  sums  to  add  which  exceed  two  figures  in  the 
answer,  and  ask  how  we  shall  write  the  answer.  Some  can 
guess  that  1  shall  have  a  row  of  hundreds. 

I  detain  them  on  numeration  a  long  while  ;  I  give  a 
great  part  of  the  time  devoted  to  arithmetic,  to  obtain  the 
power  of  conceiving  numbers.  If  the  understanding  is 
weak,  so  much  the  more  need  of  strengthening  it ;  so  much 
the  more  danger  of  confusing  it,  by  offering  irregular 
numbers  and  complicated  relations.  Now  in  these  tens 
and  hundreds  all  is  regular :  they  rise,  by  the  most  simple 
gradation,  to  the  greatest  numbers  used  ;  the  stepping 


85 

stones  are  skilfully  arranged,  and  the  mind  that  can  reach 
one,  is  prepared  for  the  next. 

I  would  give  much  more  time,  at  first,  to  secure  force  and 
precision  of  mental  grasp,  than  is  usually  done.  By  suitable 
training,  any  person  might  extract  the  cube  root  mentally, 
like  Newton,  or  keep  in  his  memory  the  first  six  powers  of 
all  numbers  from  ten  to  one  hundred,  like  the  blind  Euler. 
Captives  who  have  thus  kept  alive  their  faculties,  show  us 
what  may  be  done  even  late  in  life.  Far  more  may  be  at- 
tained when  numbers  are  first  presented  to  the  mind  ;  and 
though  few  would  use  their  powers  for  such  purposes  as 
Newton  and  Euler,  they  would  have  a  clearer  conception  of 
distance,  space,  and  all  which  is  the  subject  of  calculation. 
How  few  persons  can  conceive  distinctly  the  extent  of  a 
number  of  more  than  twelve  figures  ;  and  how  much  do 
many  scientific  facts  lose  in  sublimity,  by  this  incapacity  to 
grasp  them  ! 

It  is  not  merely  to  improve  the  power  of  conception,  that 
I  would  keep  the  child  so  long  in  numeration.  Let  him 
stretch  his  conceptive  faculty  a  few  hundreds,  still  the  series 
reaches  into  infinity ;  and  there  is  no  use  in  his  conceiving 
more  than  in  some  science  or  other  he  can  apply  to  reality. 
I  should  hope  also  to  make  his  idea  of  the  first  hundreds 
and  thousands  more  distinct.  He  should  have  an  ideal  ar- 
rangement clear  and  ready  for  use  ;  and  all  numbers  should 
be  as  familiar  to  him  as  the  letters  of  the  alphabet.  He 
should  write  them  over  and  over,  every  way,  skipping,  and 
from  dictation,  always  beginning  at  the  right  hand.  Mean- 
while he  should  do  sums  in  addition  on  the  slate  ;  and  dif- 
ficult ones,  for  he  would  be  as  familiar  with  large,  as  with 
small  numbers. 

I  would  have  subtraction  practiced  in  the  same  manner ; 
going  over  the  same  process  with  a  great  many  different 
numbers.  Thus  30  less  0  is  how  many  ?  30  less  1  is  how 
many  ?  up  to  30  less  30.  I  never  omit  0  in  any  of  the 
processes  :  because  children  should  be  able  to  distinguish  be- 
tween a  number  taken  0  times,  and  one  with  0  added  to  it. 

The    slow  recitation   of    the   subtraction    table  obliges 
them  to  keep  in  their  heads  two  series,  an  ascending  and  a 
descending  one,  beside  a  constant  number ;  and  thus  in- 
8 


86 

creases  the  power  of  retaining  and  comparing  numbers.  At 
first  I  ask  questions,  and  each  operation  is  performed  slowly, 
and  often  on  the  ringers  :  but  after  understanding  and  prac- 
ticing them  on  their  slates,  they  answer  with  great  ease  and 
quickness. 

When  they  are  well  practiced  in  subtraction,  I  set  down  a 
very  large  sum  of  the  same  numbers  to  be  added  :  they  think 
it  very  tedious,  and  I  agree,  and  offer  to  show  them  a  shorter 
way.  I  tell  them  they  can  do  each  sum  more  quickly  by 
carrying  part  of  it,  already  done,  in  their  heads.  I  ask 
them  if  it  would  be  convenient  to  gather  and  grind  our  corn 
every  time  we  want  bread  ;  or  to  shear  our  sheep,  and  spin 
and  weave  the  wool,  every  time  we  want  a  frock.  I  tell  them 
the  person  can  do  most  in  any  emergency,  and  can  always 
exert  his  powers  to  the  greatest  advantage,  who  has  made 
the  best  preparation,  physically  and  intellectually  :  and  if 
they  keep  their  minds  amply  furnished  and  in  good  work- 
ing order,  they  can  do  all  which  is  demanded.  Thus 
if  they  can  multiply  all  the  units  as  quickly  as  they  can 
conceive  of  them,  they  can  multiply  the  largest  sum. 
Then  I  begin  with  2  taken  0  times,  2  taken  once,  &c.,  and 
go  on  slowly,  making  them  observe  the  principle  in  each 
instance.  I  never  hurry  them  in  multiplication.  If  a 
child  could  not  perceive  the  working  of  the  rule  beyond  the 
first  few  lines,  I  would  keep  him  in  these  a  year. 

Division  comes  next ;  far  the  most  difficult  of  the  first 
processes,  and  best  explained  as  analyzing  a  past  process 
of  multiplication  ;  as  finding  out  how  often  a  small  number 
was  taken  to  make  a  larger  one.  It  requires  very  great 
practice,  particularly  when  fractions  are  not  taught  early. 

I  often  ask  the  different  factors  of  numbers  :  this  helps 
to  multiply  and  divide  large  sums.  I  draw  squares  on  the 
board,  and  show  that  12  of  them  may  be  arranged,  4  in  a 
line,  in  3  lines,  or  6  in  a  line,  in  2  lines.  I  suppose  a  man 
buying  a  cake  of  48  Ibs. ;  and  then  for  convenience  pre- 
ferring 2  cakes  of  24  Ibs. ;  then  I  ask  if  he  could  take  the 
same  quantity  in  still  smaller  cakes,  and  what  their  weight 
would  be. 

Then  I  go  over  fractions  as  thoroughly  as  I  have  gone 
over  whole  numbers.  Colburn's  is  an  excellent  book  for 


87 

these,  but  the  transitions  from  easy  to  difficult  questions 
are  often  abrupt,  and  the  teacher  must  supply  exercises. 
The  children  do  not  leave  fractions  until  they  can  conceive 
of  a  number  as  whole  at  one  moment,  and  at  the  next,  divided 
into  fractions  of  any  size,  and  can  use  these  fractions  as 
readily  and  understandingly  as  whole  numbers. 

I  should  not  hurry  a  girl  to  learn  more  than  these  ele- 
mentary rules  applied  to  whole  numbers  and  fractions,  until 
she  was  twelve  years  old.  Then  she  could  use  figures  as 
easily  as  letters,  and  two  more  years  would  carry  her  through 
Colburn's  Sequel  and  into  algebra.  I  like  to  teach  algebra. 
It  is  really  a  peep  into  the  secrets,  an  opportunity  of  moving 
the  machine  ourselves  to  free  ourselves  from  the  cumbrous 
processes  of  arithmetic,  and  deal  only  with  the  laws. 

My  dear  Mary,  do  not  read  this  letter  aloud,  or  your 
auditor  will  be  disposed  to  make  a  hasty  escape  from  the 
Law.  I  was  not  aware  the  word  recurred  so  frequently. 
I  express  by  it  the  relations  and  order  existing  in  any  series 
of  events,  —  relations  caused  by  the  nature  of  the  agents 
and  objects  ;  not  the  execution  of  absolute  and  external 
controlling  power,  the  meaning  which  human  law  often  bears. 


XV. 

MY  DEAR  MARY  : 

I  HAVE  given  so  much  time  to  arithmetic,  that  I  must 
touch  slightly  on  geometry.  I  do  not  teach  it  as  a  science 
very  early.  At  first  we  need  only  give  names,  and  help 
children  to  arrange  what  Nature  teaches.  She  makes 
them  geometricians  by  direct  perception,  for  the  sake  of 
self-preservation,  and  of  being  in  connexion  with  the  ex- 
ternal world.  They  need  no  alphabet,  no  characters,  to 
understand  geometry. 

Geometry  includes  knowledge  of  extension  and  form,  and 
the  properties  of  forms.  Size  and  form  are  perceived  by  the 


senses  ;  their  properties  are  partly  perceived  by  the  sen- 
ses, partly  judged  by  the  understanding.  Of  all  mental 
processes  this  begins  earliest,  and  depends  least  on  the 
will.  Its  correctness  in  infants,  depends  on  the  acute- 
ness  of  the  senses  ;  in  older  persons,  partly  on  the  nice  de- 
cision of  the  understanding.  Present  two  oranges,  differ- 
ing in  size,  to  an  infant  ;  it  will  almost  certainly  seize  the 
larger.  There  seems  no  selfish  emotion  in  the  case  ;  the 
two  impress  themselves  on  his  brain  as  of  unequal  worth, 
and  he  stretches  forth  his  hand  for  the  larger.  Let  us  suppose 
a  child  whose  senses  are  rather  dull,  and  let  him  receive 
the  best  training  :  let  him  discriminate  his  impressions,  and 
interpret' rightly  all  he  learns  through  his  senses.  Mean- 
while let  a  child  of  quick  eye  neglect  to  analyze  and  reflect 
on  his  impressions  ;  and  at  the  age  of  twenty,  place  before 
the  two,  complicated  forms,  or  an  irregular  bit  of  ground, 
and  the  one  who  had  originally  least  perception  of  size,  will 
estimate  them  most  truly.  So  much  may  mental  training 
supply  organic  deficiencies. 

But  they  are  intended  to  assist,  not  to  supply  the  place 
of  each  other.  The  mind  should  be  alive  to  judge  all  which 
the  senses  reveal  :  and  the  senses  should  go  forth,  not 
blindly,  but  with  a  purpose  to  bring  home  what  is  wanting  to 
complete  the  judgment. 

How  long  an  infant  will  contemplate  a  chair,  or  turn  over 
a  plaything !  It  cannot  satisfy  itself  with  gazing.  Soon 
past  impressions  begin  to  correct  the  present  ones.  At 
first  it  stretches  out  its  hand  for  a  candle  across  a  room  : 
soon  it  recollects  that  it  cannot  reach  the  candle  without 
crossing  the  room,  and  throws  itself  forward  in  the  effort  to 
get  there.  During  the  first  years  the  impressions  of  the 
senses  are  continually  corrected  by  the  judgment,  and  at 
last  this  is  done  so  quickly  that  it  is  imperceptible.  There 
is  now  danger  of  passing  too  rapidly  from  the  first  impres- 
sion, and  losing  it.  All  children  have  the  true  picture  ;  as 
they  prove  by  their  frequent  questions  about  some  object 
as  large  as  others  in  the  landscape,  but  which,  from  its 
want  of  interest,  we  do  not  notice  ;  and  also  by  the  dif- 
ficulty with  which  they  catch  some  object,  not  very  promi- 
nent in  appearance,  but  to  us  most  interesting,  from  our 


89 

previous  knowledge  of  it.  Among  grown  persons,  none 
but  artists  retain  the  true  picture  ;  and  to  call  up  at  will  the 
mental  or  visual  perception,  requires  a  mind  of  great  power, 
and  a  fine  organization. 

We  can  do  much  very  early  to  aid  the  perception,  and 
something  to  form  the  judgment.  When  children  are  about 
five  years  of  age,  I  make  them  acquainted  with  lines  and 
forms,  and  their  simple  properties,  in  order.  I  have  colored 
diagrams  hung  against  the  wall,  to  occupy  the  leisure  mo- 
ments. They  draw  straight  lines  on  the  board  in  every  direc- 
tion, and  describe  them.  They  try  to  enclose  a  space  in  two 
straight  lines,  and  find  out  why  they  cannot.  They  enclose 
a  space  in  three  straight  lines,  and  then  in  four,  and  so  on,  and 
learn  the  name  of  each  figure.  Then  I  ask  them  if  they 
can  enclose  a  space  by  one  line  of  any  sort ;  and  show 
them  that  they  can,  by  one  which  constantly  changes  its 
direction,  because  it  will  turn  and  meet  itself,  making  an 
irregular  curve,  or  a  circle. 

When  lines  are  well  understood  I  introduce  angles,  as  the 
space  included  where  straight  lines  cross  ;  and  show  the 
properties  of  the  right-angle,  and  of  triangles.  1  illustrate 
fractions  by  showing  the  angles  formed  by  the  crossing  of 
two  straight  lines,  or  of  twenty  straight  lines  in  the  same 
spot,  to  be  always  equal  in  amount ;  because  the  space 
remains  the  same,  whether  divided  into  two  or  twenty  parts. 

I  give  them  solid  blocks,  and  fix  early  the  name  of  each 
figure,  cone,  pyramid,  cube  ;  it  saves  many  blunders. 

I  will  spare  you  more  instances,  though  I  multiply  them 
exceedingly  in  my  teaching.  All  the  aid  which  can  be 
given  in  numbers  is  by  securing  practice,  and  by  presenting 
them  in  numerous  relations,  so  as  to  illustrate  a  question. 
Occasionally  light  is  thus  let  in  on  the  benighted  listener, 
but  usually  the  child  clears  himself  by  a  way  of  his  own  ; 
and  every  time  he  does,  his  faith  and  interest  in  numbers 
is  increased.  Each  person  forms,  very  early,  some  mode  of 
calculating  ;  fixes  some  favorite  relations  and  facts  in  his 
memory,  and  from  these  deduces  all  the  rest. 

It  is  very  desirable  he  should  early  learn  to  depend  on 
his  own  nuclei  and  ways,  even  if  they  are  not  the  quickest : 
I  do  not  wish  to  confine  him  to  my  particular  modes.     For 
8* 


90 

this  reason,  as  soon  as  his  figures  are  legible  to  himself,  he 
does  his  sums  alone.  At  first,  I  explain  each  question  and 
state  it,  but  soon,  I  will  not  tell  him  whether  he  is  to  add  or 
divide  ;  I  throw  him  entirely  on  himself. 

The  comprehending  and  stating  of  a  sum  is  the  most 
difficult  step  to  induce.  When  children  get  into  the  right 
path  they  are  delighted,  their  faces  light  up,  I  am  called  to 
share  their  satisfaction.  They  say  they  should  like  arith- 
metic, if  it  were  all  like  this.  I  tell  them  it  is  all  so,  if  they 
will  find  will  it  out ;  "  a  mighty  maze,  but  not  without  a  plan." 


XVI. 

MY  DEAR  MARY: 

WHEN  I  begin  geography  as  a  study,  I  tell  the  children 
they  will  have  to  commit  to  memory  some  entirely  new 
facts,  but  I  will  give  them  as  little  as  possible  to  learn 
in  this  manner,  if  they  will  remember  all  I  tell  them. 
It  is  very  desirable  that  the  first  impression  of  the  earth's 
surface  should  be  given  by  a  globe,  the  largest  that  can 
be  procured.  I  do  not  use  maps  until  the  great  features 
of  the  earth's  surface  are  well  known.  When  the  earth's 
diameter,  circumference  and  surface  are  learned,  I  show 
by  the  globe  the  daily  motion  from  west  to  east.  The 
particles  most  distant  from  the  central  axis  of  the  globe 
describe  the  largest  circles,  and  move  very  rapidly ;  with 
the  nearness  to  the  axis  the  motion  becomes  less  ;  and 
on  the  surface  of  the  globe  also,  as  the  circles  become 
smaller  and  approach  the  axis,  the  motion  diminishes. 
So  that  an  atom  at  the  equator  travels  twenty-five  thousand 
miles  a  day,  or  a  thousand  miles  an  hour,  while  an  atom 
at  the  poles  has  no  rotatory  motion.  This  I  illustrate  by 
letting  four  girls  join  hands,  and  chalking  on  the  floor  a  cir- 
cle for  the  outer  one.  She  travels  farther  and  faster  than 


91 

the  others  ;  the  inner  one  merely  turns  round,  and  a  line 
may  be  imagined  drawn  from  her  head  to  her  feet,  which 
need  not, even  turn  round.  This  imaginary  line,  always 
pointing  in  the  same  direction,  and  passing  through  the 
centre  of  the  earth,  we  call  its  axis.  The  pole  before  us, 
when  the  rising  sun  is  on  our  right,  is  called  the  north 
pole,  the  opposite  end  the  south  pole.  They  are  the 
only  parts  which  always  point  in  the  same  direction, 
and  serve  to  judge  all  other  directions.  Then  I  explain 
east  and  west  as  directions,  while  on  our  globe  north  and 
south  are  points.  This  removes  many  difficulties  of  lati- 
tude and  longitude.  I  show  the  equator,  and  lines  of  lati- 
tude, as  drawn  with  reference  to  the  earth's  axis,  and  as 
helping  us  to  fix  the  position  and  extent  of  countries  ;  this 
leads  to  much  conversation  about  climate,  productions,  and 
customs.  Longitude  furnishes  many  interesting  questions 
about  the  time  of  day  at  different  places,  which  children 
understand  very  readily.  They  are  never  tired  of  tracing 
the  changes  ;  of  seeing  a  place  come  up  under  the  morn- 
ing rays  of  the  sun,  pass  through  noon  and  evening,  and 
disappear  ;  of  finding  all  the  places  at  which  it  is  noon  at 
once  ;  and  of  fancying  what  is  being  done  at  different 
places.  They  also  trace  lines  of  latitude  and  longitude 
round  the  globe,  mentioning  all  the  places  they  pass  through, 
and  commit  them  to  memory. 

Then  we  observe  the  surface  of  the  globe,  its  irregular 
continents,  its  clusters  of  islands,  the  great  proportion  of 
water.  We  observe  how  much  more  is  known  of  the 
northern  hemisphere,  and  how  much  more  has  taken  place 
there  than  in  the  southern  hemisphere. 

I  describe  each  variety  of  land  and  water,  and  show  in- 
stances of  each.  They  are  then  studied  in  the  geogra- 
phy, and  examples  sought  on  the  globe.  When  each  girl 
can  approach  the  globe,  and  mention  the  capes,  rivers, 
mountains,  &ic.,  as  fast  as  she  can  see  them,  I  turn  to  Asia, 
the  most  anciently-peopled  country. 

While  they  look  at  it,  I  give  a  slight  sketch  of  its  history, 
its  inhabitants,  its  natural  features.  It  has  always  been 
very  thickly  peopled,  but  by  nations  too  luxurious  to  devel- 
ope  fine  character,  and  injured  by  the  extreme  fertility  of 


92 

their  soil,  and  their  gold  and  precious  stones.  Still  these 
nations  believe  themselves  the  wisest  in  the  world,  and 
have  among  them  proofs  that  civilized  and  learned  people 
must  have  dwelt  in  Asia,  before  Europe  had  emerged  from 
barbarism.  I  describe  its  lofty  mountains  standing  on 
elevated  plains  in  the  centre,  covered  with  eternal  snow, 
and  the  large  rivers  pouring  off  from  them  on  the  east  and 
north ;  the  Yenissei  and  Obi,  fed  by  the  continual  ice  of 
the  mountains,  flowing  from  a  great  height,  with  a  rapid 
and  steady  current  to  the  Frozen  Ocean  ;  and  the  Indus  and 
Ganges,  rising  not  far  from  the  southern  edge  of  the  same 
extensive  plateau,  and  under  the  influence  of  tropical  rains, 
overflowing  their  banks,  bringing  fertility  to  the  parched 
earth,  preparing  the  rice  harvest,  and  gliding  through  very 
different  scenes  to  the  equatorial  regions.  I  mention  the 
rapid  growth  of  vegetation  in  the  south  ;  the  bamboo 
bristling  with  spines,  rising  sixty  feet  in  one  season,  and  the 
huge  vines  and  thorny  creepers  binding  the  forests  in  one 
impenetrable  mass  ;  and  the  abundance  of  spices  and  fra- 
grant trees  in  the  islands,  sufficient  to  supply  the  world 
ever  since  the  days  of  Solomon  ;  and  the  volcanoes  so  nu- 
merous in  these  islands,  that  fearful  eruptions  are  scarcely 
noticed  by  the  natives. 

The  boundaries  are  learned,  and  the  next  day  I  require 
all  I  have  told  them,  to  be  repeated. 

Afterward  they  study  each  country  in  succession  ;  learn 
its  boundaries,  chief  natural  features,  cities  and  inhabitants. 
When  I  give  out  the  lesson,  I  remark  on  the  size  of  the 
rivers,  their  rise  and  course,  their  use  in  fertilizing  the  coun- 
try, and  conveying  its  products  —  we  observe  the  direction 
of  the  mountains,  and  their  probable  effect  on  the  climate. 
I  mention  the  productions  and  general  appearance  of  the 
country.  Many  questions  are  asked  about  each  nation, 
and  I  put  as  much  life  into  my  answers  as  possible.  I 
mention  a  few  of  the  most  prominent  traits,  and  those  most 
unlike  ours.  I  contrast  the  character  of  Oriental  with 
Western  civilization.  For  instance,  if  Japan  is  the  country 
we  are  studying,  I  do  not  say  merely  that  it  consists  of  three 
large  islands  east  of  Asia,  rich  in  spices,  and  with  civilized 
inhabitants  ;  but  I  tell  them  it  is  crowded  with  people  who 


93 

differ  almost  totally  from  us.  Instead  of  sending  out  ships 
to  exchange  goods  with  all  the  nations  of  the  earth,  and 
publishing  papers  that  all  the  people  may  know  every  new 
way  of  doing  things,  the  Japanese  only  let  into  their  coun- 
try two  Dutch  ships  once  a  year  :  they  keep  guns  to  shoot 
all  other  persons  as  enemies.  And  they  have  a  law 
that  whoever  introduces  an  improvement  in  ship-building 
shall  receive  thirty  blows  of  the  bamboo.  Thus  every 
thing  goes  on  as  it  has  done  for  thousands  of  years. 

The  Mikado  sits  a  number  of  hours  every  day  on  his 
throne,  immovable,  lest  by  turning  his  head  he  bring  down 
part  of  the  empire:  when  he  has  sat  the  requisite  number 
of  hours,  he  puts  his  crown  on  the  throne  as  a  substitute. 

Their  first  sign  of  mourning  is  to  turn  all  the  screens 
and  sliding-doors  topsy-turvy,  and  all  their  garments  inside 
out ;  probably  to  show  that  all  things  appear  changed  to 
the  afflicted. 

Their  use  of  fans  is  very  amusing  :  soldiers,  priests,  every 
human  being  over  five  years  of  age,  has  one  on  his  head, 
or  in  his  girdle  ;  visiters  receive  dainties  on  them  ;  the 
schoolmaster  punishes  with  them  :  the  beggar  receives  his 
alms  on  them. 

They  are  so  fond  of  gilding,  that  the  bills,  legs,  and  claws 
of  birds,  served  up  at  table,  are  elegantly  gilt. 

I  contrast  the  history  of  their  country  for  the  last  cen- 
tury with  ours,  and  consider  the  prospects  of  each  for  the 
next  century.  Such  accounts  are  associated  with  the  name 
and  position  of  a  country,  and  inspire  a  desire  to  hear  more. 
Sometimes  a  country  is  interesting  from  its  great  men,  or 
from  events  ;  sometimes  from  natural  curiosities  ;  but  there 
is  always  something  which  may  be  seized.  It  is  well  also 
to  give  an  early  knowledge  of  the  comparative  antiquity 
of  nations  :  and  of  their  importance  as  depending  on  char- 
acter, and  not  on  the  size  of  their  country. 

I  give  these  lessons  orally,  because  I  do  not  know  a 
geography  sufficiently  simple  and  graphic  for  little  children. 
When  they  are  older,  they  take  a  text-book  for  the  dry 
facts,  and  I  do  all  I  can  to  connect  them  with  history,  and 
make  them  interesting.  They  note  very  carefully  the 
relative  size  of  countries,  their  inland  or  maritime  position, 


94 

the  size  of  the  larger  rivers,  and  the  height  of  the  more  im- 
portant mountains.  I  have  the  size  of  the  different  con- 
tinents, islands  and  seas,  reduced  to  circles  painted  of  dif- 
ferent colors,  and  the  number  of  square  miles  attached  to 
each.  These  hang  against  the  wall,  and  as  they  are  ar- 
ranged from  the  largest  to  the  smallest,  they  catch  the  eye, 
and  are  easily  learned. 

They  find  the  direction  of  one  place  from  another.  They 
learn  the  compass,  and  are  very  accurate  in  determining 
the  intermediate  points.  It  takes  from  one  to  two  years 
to  go  over  the  globe  in  this  manner  :  I  insist  on  its  being 
done  thoroughly,  or  I  give  no  sketches. 


XVII. 

MY  DEAR  MARY  : 

IF  you  are  not  over  weary  of  the  earth,  I  must  detain 
you  upon  it  a  little  longer.  I  must  give  an  idea  of  its 
position  in  space,  and  of  its  relative  proportions  and  con- 
nexions with  other  bodies  ;  and  to  my  practiced  numeralists, 
these  numbers,  however  vast,  are  not  mere  figures.  I  tell 
them  what  first  made  men  suspect  that  the  earth  was  not  a 
flat  surface.  When  a  ship  leaves  the  shore  the  people  on 
board  lose  sight  first  of  the  ground,  then  of  the  houses, 
steeples  and  hills  ;  and  when  vessels  meet  on  the  ocean, 
they  see  first  each  others'  masts,  and  then  the  decks  and 
hulls.  On  a  flat  surface,  the  whole  ship  would  be  seen  at 
once  ;  therefore,  wherever  this  gradual  appearance  takes 
place,  the  earth  must  fall  off  from  a  flat  surface.  Now  it 
is  found  to  take  place  in  every  direction  precisely  in  the 
same  manner  ;  therefore  the  earth  has  no  flat  surface, 
therefore  it  must  be  nearly  a  sphere.  This  form  is  con- 
firmed by  the  round  shadow  on  the  moon  in  an  eclipse,  and 


95 

by  the  spheroidal  forms  of  the  other  planets.  They  ask 
if  mountains  do  not  interrupt  this  perfect  form,  and  I  tell 
them  that  the  highest  mountains  are  in  proportion  to  the 
whole  earth,  but  as  large  as  a  grain  of  sand  to  a  large-sized 
globe  ;  and  that  three  fourths  of  the  outline  are  formed  by 
water.  Then  1  explain  gravity  as  the  power  which  retains 
every  thing  at  the  earth's  surface  and  in  its  place  ;  and  illus- 
trate the  attracting  power  of  the  earth  by  that  of  a  large 
magnetized  ball  rolled  in  iron  filings.  I  do  not  hurry  this, 
but  give  countless  instances  of  its  various  manifestations : 
and  do  not  leave  it  until  they  have  a  perfect  conception  of 
this  vast  globe  studded  with  people,  with  their  feet  toward 
the  centre. 

Then  on  my  black-board  I  draw  a  segment  of  a  very 
large  circle,  and  beneath  it  a  straight  line.  A  few  inches 
of  the  lines  cut  off,  appear  parallel  ;  but  in  a  yard  the  dif- 
ference is  perceptible.  I  place  a  figure  on  each,  and  repre- 
sent each  as  capable  of  seeing  but  a  few  inches,  and  ask  if 
their  world  would  not  appear  the  same  to  both  ? 

I  tell  them  the  space  we  see  is  smaller  compared  to  the 
whole  earth  than  those  few  inches  to  that  whole  circle  ; 
that  the  surface  of  our  globe  varies  from  a  flat  surface,  by 
eight  inches  only  in  a  mile,  a  quantity  not  perceptible. 

I  explain  the  two  motions  of  the  earth  j  I  show  that  a 
blow  through  the  centre  of  gravity  sends  the  object  for- 
ward without  any  rotation  on  its  axis  ;  but  a  blow  not 
through  the  centre  of  gravity  will  send  it  forward,  and  make 
it  rotate  also.  An  ivory  ball  or  a  top  shows  these  two  mo- 
tions independent  of  each  other  ;  in  a  top  the  rotatory  mo- 
tion often  outlasts  the  other.  By  taking  a  top  while  spin- 
ning in  the  hand,  and  moving  it  round  in  a  circle,  you  can 
show  the  separate  motions  :  and  you  can  then  explain  the 
difference  between  the  place  of  the  orbit  and  the  place  of 
the  rotation.  I  show  the  north  pole  pointed  steadily  in 
the  same  direction,  and  consequently  inclined  sometimes 
toward  the  sun,  sometimes  away  from  it.  Perhaps  the 
motion  first  imparted  to  the  earth  inclined  its  axis,  and  thus 
caused  the  different  length  of  the  days  and  the  varying 
seasons,  allowing  to  one  half  the  globe  repose,  and  waking 
the  other  to  renewed  life.  By  it,  light  and  heat  are  more 
uniformly  distributed  ;  the  polar  regions  gain  a  brilliant  day 


96 

and  a  rapid  summer ;  and  the  torrid  zone  is  saved  from 
drought  and  barrenness.  The  questions  and  experiments 
arising  from  this  simple  cause  are  very  interesting,  and 
occupy  us  a  long  time. 

Then  I  explain  the  earth's  orbit ;  and  the  two  forces 
which  regulate  the  motion  of  one  body  round  another. 
These  may  be  graphically  portrayed  on  a  black-board,  by 
one  line  tending  forward  continually,  and  another  continually 
trying  to  fall  into  the  centre,  and  the  object  influenced  by 
both  revolving  between  them  nearly  in  a  circle.  I  have 
shown  it  thus,  and  found  it  instantly  understood. 

If  you  knew  how  slowly  I  advance  in  these  lessons,  turn- 
ing aside  for  every  thing  important ;  and  how  often  they 
are  wholly  or  partially  repeated,  you  would  suppose  I 
needed  a  superhuman  endowment  of  patience  ;  but,  as  I 
have  often  said,  all  depends  on  the  banner  we  fight  under. 
I  could  bear  much  for  fair  Science. 

On  my  pupils'  part  I  demand  close  attention  ;  they  must 
not  only  hear  with  pleased  wonder,  but  grasp  the  truth, 
reflect  on  it,  and  apply  it.  If  they  make  no  effort,  the 
finest  glimpses  into  creation  will  not-strengthen  their  powers 
so  much  as  a  column  of  spelling  over  which  they  make 
effort.  I  give  them  many  facts  arising  from  the  subject,  to 
be  learned  accurately,  and  I  believe  these  far  better  for 
their  minds  than  lessons  written  only  to  be  studied.  Exer- 
tion I  insist  on  as  a  duty  ;  talents  are  intrusted  to  them, 
and  they  are  responsible  for  the  use  of  them. 

I  urge  this  particularly,  because  the  danger  of  oral  in- 
struction is,  that  the  sinews  of  the  pupil's  mind  may  suffer. 
Yet  I  cannot  but  think  that  its  certain  and  manifold  advan- 
tages far  outweigh  its  possible  evils.  Even  the  particles 
of  matter  by  proximity  induce  changes  in  each  other. 
Nitric  acid  has  no  effect  on  platina,  but  an  alloy  of  silver 
and  platina  dissolves  in  it  with  great  ease.  By  a  small 
quantity  of  yeast  the  whole  loaf  is  made  light.  In  the 
spiritual  world  the  influences,  whose  operation  escapes 
analysis,  are  yet  more  numerous  ;  much  is  quickened  and 
developed  by  a  process  too  subtle  for  our  perceptions. 
The  difference  between  the  living  teacher  and  the  dead 
book,  cannot  be  set  forth  on  paper ;  it  must  be  felt  to  be 
appreciated. 


Oral  instruction  has  another  advantage  ;  it  supplies  a 
chasm  which  few  writers  have  yet  stepped  forth  to  fill. 
We  have  excellent  books  for  teachers,  but  few  or  none 
which  bring  important  subjects  clearly  before  young  minds. 
I  know  not  whether  the  difficulty  of  the  task,  or  the  fear 
of  being  tedious,  has  deterred  authors  from  supplying  this 
want,  and  perhaps  more  books  of  the  sort  exist  than  I  am 
aware  of.  To  supply  the  want  himself,  brings  too  much 
labor  on  the  teacher ;  more  than  he  can  perform  faithfully, 
if  he  has  other  claims. 


XVIII. 

MY  DEAR  MARY  : 

ON  looking  over  my  last,  I  resolved  to  give  you  no  more 
instances  of  my  teachings.  I  cannot  do  them  justice  in  so 
small  a  space.  I  cannot  be  general  without  being  super- 
ficial, as  none  but  a  great  artist  can  give  a  likeness  by  a 
few  strokes.  I  was  so  afraid  I  should  be  carried  beyond 
the  solar  system  into  the  regions  of  infinite  space,  that  I 
put  a  strong  constraint  on  myself,  and  gave  a  most  mea- 
gre account  of  a  favorite  study.  It  is  in  behalf  of  ano- 
ther favorite  study,  that  I  now  waive  rny  resolution,  and 
offer  you  a  few  geological  considerations,  which  I  present 
to  my  pupils  early,  because  from  the  vastness  and  change- 
ableness  of  the  subject  matter,  they  so  eminently  set  forth 
the  supremacy  and  durability  of  the  law. 

When  my  earth  is  poised  in  mid-air,  I  display  a  drawing 
of  a  segment  of  it,  looking  very  opaque,  with  a  semi-trans- 
parent water  enfolding  it,  and  around  in  its  true  proportion 
the  thin  air  slightly  colored,  so  as  to  mark  the  limit  of  the 
terrestrial  world.  I  tell  the  children  that  probably  no  atoms 
have  escaped  beyond  it,  or  been  added  to  it,  since  it  was 
9 


98 

first  bung  in  the  sky  ;  and  that  nearly  the  same  proportion 
of  atoms  is  in  a  solid,  in  a  fluid,  and  in  an  aeriform  state. 
But  we  suppose  the  particles  to  he  differently  arranged  ;  that 
there  are  continents  where  there  were  once  seas,  and  that 
the  ocean  flows  over  sunken  lands.  They  cannot  bear  to 
have  the  solid  earth  taken  from  under  them,  and  are  quite 
relieved  when  they  find  so  many  ages  necessary  to  change 
its  surface.  I  tell  them  we  know  nothing  about  its  state 
at  first,  but  we  suppose  it  to  have  been  a  fluid  mass,  which, 
as  we  see  daily  from  drops  of  water,  would  take  the  form 
of  a  sphere,  and  its  revolving  motion  would  make  it  bulge 
where  the  motion  was  greatest.  I  instruct  them  about  the 
atmosphere,  and  its  wonderful  adaptation  to  our  wants  ; 
that  its  volume  and  nature  never  change  materially,  though 
millions  of  men  and  animals  use  it. 

Neither  perhaps  has  the  relative  propo  tion  of  land 
and  water  altered  ;  but  they  have  changed  places,  and 
altered  the  surface  without  disturbing  the  form  of  our  globe. 
By  observing  its  present  appearance,  its  hills,  valleys,  con- 
tinents, fossil  plants  and  animals,  we  can  decipher  much  of 
its  history,  and  often  ascertain  the  time  and  order  of  events. 
I  ask  the  children  what  their  conclusions  would  be  if  they 
found  burnt  ruins,  or  skeletons  of  dead  Indians,  seated  in 
their  graves,  or  marble  columns  and  carvings  at  the  bottom 
of  a  clear  lake.  And  if  the  Indians  had  near  them  skele- 
tons, trophies  of  their  prowess  in  the  chase,  different  from 
the  bones  of  a:iy  living  animal,  would  they  not  conclude 
there  had  been  animals  unlike  ours  ? 

In  the  depths  of  the  earth  are  remains  of  shells  and 
plants  which  received  their  form,  not  from  fire  or  water, 
but  from  the  principle  of  life.  They  could  not  have  breathed 
and  lived  there  ;  consequently  the  position  of  the  rocks  in 
which  they  are  imbedded  must  have  changed.  Those  who 
have  studied  the  structure  of  animals  and  plants,  can  from 
a  fragment  decide  the  family  and  general  habits  of  the  in- 
dividual, and  cnn  tell  what  climate  it  would  require.  Once 
in  Virginia,  certain  claws  were  found  very  larije  and  much 
hooked  :  they  were  supposed  to  belong  to  a  carnivorous  ani- 
mal, perhaps  to  an  enormous  lion.  They  were  sent  to  Paris, 
and  the  scientific  men  there  observed  immediately ,  that  where 


99 

carnivorous  animals  have  a  little  bone  under  the  last  joint  of 
the  paw,  this  had  none  :  but  it  had  a  small  bone  on  the 
upper  side.  They  knew  therefore  that  it  belonged  to  quite 
a  different  race  of  animals,  the  sloth  ;  who  use  their  claws 
only  to  hang  upon  boughs  till  they  have  stripped  them, 
and  who  roll  the  claw  under  the  feet  in  walking.  To 
draw  out  the  claw,  a  muscle  passes  from  the  inner  end, 
over  the  bone,  to  the  next  joint,  and  ends  in  a  little  bone. 
The  cat  and  lion,  on  the  contrary,  draw  up  their  claws  by 
a  muscle  on  the  top  of  the  bone,  and  dart  them  out  by  a 
muscle  under  it,  which  also  ends  in  a  little  bone.  This  ap- 
parently slight  difference  decided  whether  the  animal  had 
been  one  of  the  fiercest  or  most  sluggish  creatures  in  exis- 
tence. 

But  we  are  not  obliged  to  judge  from  fragments  only. 
The  impressions  of  plants  and  shells  on  stone  are  per- 
fectly distinct  :  every  fibre  of  the  leaf  is  visible,  and  whole 
skeletons,  and  sometimes  whole  animals  are  found  well 
preserved.  Small  specimens  of  these  fossils  are  easily  pro- 
cured, and  give  children  a  better  knowledge  of  them  than 
any  description. 

I  proceed  to  tell  them  that  they  are  found  in  layers,  often 
many  hundred  feet  thick,  piled  one  upon  the  other  in  the 
earth's  crust,  and  each  containing  its  peculiar  animals  and 
plants,  for  the  growth  of  which  a  long  period  was  requisite  : 
so  that  we  may  regard  each  as  a  volume  of  history,  going 
back  to  ages  where  imagination  can  scarcely  follow. 

Each  of  these  strata  was  once  the  upper  one,  and  en- 
joyed water  and  light.  In  the  water  tho  aquatic  animals 
lived,  and  left  their  shells  on  the  loose  sand  at  the  bottom 
when  they  died.  The  sea-plants,  the  delicate  lilies,  are 
upright,  as  if  slowly  imbedded  ;  the  shells  lie  whole  and 
level,  as  if  at  the  bottom  of  a  tranquil  ocean  ;  trees  are  stand- 
ing, or  gently  inclined,  as  if  the  earth  had  been  gradually 
deposited  around  them,  as  the  sand  is  heaped  round  the 
monuments  of  Egypt.  All  speaks  of  a  slow  quiet  process, 
occupying  a  vast  duration  of  time. 

In  the  upper  strata  the  plants  and  animals  are  such  as 
could  live  in  the  present  climate,  and  in  some  instances  are 
the  same  as  existing  species  ;  as  we  descend,  they  become 


100 

more  and  more  unlike  ours.  In  England,  species  like  the 
present  are  gradually  replaced  by  coral  reefs,  and  the  tree- 
ferns  and  palms  of  tropical  climates. 

This  leads  to  a  discussion  on  climates,  and  to  an  inquiry 
whether  plants  can  be  induced  to  grow  in  climates  very 
unlike  their  native  ones.  I  remark  how  limited  our  power 
is  in  this  respect,  that  by  our  utmost  cherishing  we  can  only 
coax  a  few  of  them  a  little  further  north  than  they  grew 
originally  ;  the  vine  and  the  olive  have  never  spread  fur- 
ther north  since  the  time  of  Tacitus. 

I  state  the  causes  which  influence  climate,  beside  lati- 
tude. Some  of  them  have  observed  the  difference  in 
warmth  between  the  north  and  soutli  side  of  a  hill  ; 
between  a  place  like  Nahant  and  an  inland  village.  Thus 
they  understand  easily  that  the  elevation  of  continents, 
the  neigborhood  of  ice,  of  burning  deserts,  of  moun- 
tains, and  the  presence  of  currents  and  of  winds,  modify 
the  climate. 

I  take  each  cause  separately,  and  let  the  children  imag- 
ine different  circumstances,  and  infer  the  consequences. 
1  tell  them  that  Europe  is  warmer  than  North  America, 
because  the  ocean  flows  in  more  freely  to  the  north  of  it ; 
and  thus  the  heat  of  the  tropics  is  carried  up  by  it,  and  inter- 
posed between  that  and  the  pole.  But  in  the  northern  part 
of  America  rises  land  three  thousand  feet  high  ;  it  reaches  the 
colder  regions  of  the  atmosphere,  and  becomes  a  vast  reser- 
voirof  ice  and  snow.  Then  I  describe  Africa  like  an  immense 
furnace  sending  out  its  heat  to  Europe  and  Asia:  the  ver- 
tical sun  beats  down  on  its  white  sands,  seldom  moistened, 
or  sheltered  by  any  verdure. 

I  ask  what  would  be  the  climate  of  Europe  if  the  south- 
ern part  were  to  sink  into  the  sea,  and  an  equal  extent  of 
land  to  rise  on  the  north  ?  What  would  be  the  effect  on 
the  United  States,  were  we  to  fill  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  and 
the  Caribbean  Sea  with  high  mountain  land,  radiating  and 
reflecting  the  vertical  rays  of  the  sun,  and  let  in  the  ocean 
freely  over  Labrador  and  the  British  Possessions.  They 
are  much  amused  by  the  idea  that  without  our  moving 
winter  may  fly  from  us,  and  pomegranates,  palms  and  citrons, 
supplant  our  forests.  They  trace  all  the  effects  within  their 


101 

capacity,  and  thus  exercise  at  once,  their  conceptive  faculty 
and  their  understanding. 

Children  are  never  tired  of  such  fancies  ;  and  it  is  a 
provision  of  Nature,  which  we  should  use  to  fix  the  law 
in  their  minds,  that  they  will  repeat  a  lesson  or  an  experi- 
ment over  and  over  again,  if  we  only  vary  the  statement 
a  little.  It  is  agreeable  to  their  feeble  persistence  to  have 
nine  parts  known,  and  only  one  to  be  sought. 

I  have  known  a  system  of  teaching  French  founded  on 
this  trait.  The  teacher  taught  orally,  "  Have  you  a  hat?" 
and  then,  "  Have  you  a  sword  ? "  and  then,  "  Seek  you  a 
hat  ?  "  and  "  Seek  you  a  sword  ?  "  and  so  on  ;  never  in- 
troducing more  than  one  word  at  a  time,  in  teaching  many 
thousand. 

Afterward  we  speak  of  the  climate  and  vegetation  of  places 
at  different  elevations  and  in  different  latitudes  ;  of  island  cli- 
mates, which  the  sea  equalizes  by  its  waves  and  its  breezes  ; 
of  climates  like  ours  made  excessively  cold  in  winter  by 
the  ice  north  of  us,  and  excessively  hot  in  summer,  by  the 
sun  in  a  sky  free  from  mists.  So  that  New  York  has  the 
summer  of  Rome  and  the  winter  of  Copenhagen,  and  Que- 
bec, the  summer  of  Paris  and  the  winter  of  Petersburg. 
We  mention  the  advantages  of  each  variety  of  climate,  the 
varied  scenery  and  enjoyments  of  the  excessive  climates, 
the  sudden  bursting  forth  of  spring,  the  flowers  under 
the  snow,  the  brilliant  colors  of  the  autumnal  forests, 
the  spirit  and  vigor  imparted  to  the  inhabitants  by  the 
piercing  winds,  and  also  the  increased  trouble  of  suiting 
dress  and  houses  to  such  extremes,  and  the  peaked  roofs, 
to  carry  off  the  snow,  instead  of  the  graceful  models  of  the 
South  of  Europe. 

In  the  island  climate,  we  notice  the  ever-springing  ver- 
dure, the  health  not  undermined  by  sudden  changes,  the 
freedom  of  a  more  out-of-door  life. 

We  mention  the  different  plants  of  each  climate  ;  that 
those  which  need  intense  heat  and  ripen  rapidly,  thrive  in 
excessive  climates,  while  those  which  require  less  heat  and 
grow  slowly,  prefer  insular  climates. 

Iceland  is  an  instance  of  the  great  variations  caused  by 
minor  and  merely  local  causes.     Every  four  or  five  years, 
9* 


a  large  number  of  icebergs  floating  from  Greenland,  are 
stranded  on  the  west  coast  of  Iceland.  Then  the  inhabi- 
tants know  that  their  crops  will  fail  in  consequence  of  the 
fogs  which  are  generated  ;  and  the  dearth  of  food  is  not 
confined  to  the  land,  for  the  temperature  of  the  water  is 
so  changed,  that  fish  forsake  the  shore.  Sometimes  we 
set  these  icebergs  aflo;it  in  a  different  direction,  cooling 
the  water  for  forty  or  fifty  miles  round,  and  sending  us 
their  chilling  breezes  when  they  float  by  our  bay. 

Then  we  take  currents,  and  use  the  same  liberties  with 
them.  We  begin  with  the  Gulf  Stream,  bearing  the 
warm  waters  of  the  Gulf  northeast,  rnoie  than  four  thou- 
sand miles,  to  the  western  shore  of  Europe  :  making  it 
perceptibly  warmer  than  the  opposite  coast  of  America, 
and  retaining  warmth  enough  to  cut  off  the  glaciers  of 
Spitzbergen  at  its  beach.  While  the  opposite  glaciers  of 
Greenland,  having  no  such  genial  current,  stretch  out  from 
shore,  and  furnish  repeated  crops  of  icebergs. 


XIX. 

MY  DEAR  MART: 

HAVING  pointed  out  how  local  peculiarities  affect  particular 
climates,  I  show  that  the  different  position  of  whole  con- 
tinents influences  the  general  climate,  and  may  have  made 
it  hotter  or  colder  than  now,  at  different  epochs.  I  ask 
them  to  show  me,  on  the  globe,  what  position  of  land  would 
make  the  universal  climate  coldest,  what  would  make  it 
hottest.  We  imagine  all  the  land  dotted  over  the  ocean 
in  little  islands,  and  the  slight  communication  the  inhabitants 
would  then  have,  and  their  consequent  want  of  civilization  : 
or  we  imagine  it  collected  into  two  compact  masses,  one  in 
the  frozen,  and  one  in  the  torrid  zone  ;  and  represent  the 
unbounded  astonishment  of  the  natives  at  first  learning  each 
other's  customs. 


103 

They  have  now  learned  to  consider  the  globe  as  a  col- 
lection of  atoms,  subject  to  incessant  change  ;  these  atoms 
are  worn,  rent,  impelled,  by  resistless  agents  ;  they  know 
no  rest.  Attraction,  chemical  affinity,  heal,  electricity, 
summon  them  hither  and  thither,  to  perform  their  parts  in 
the  great  whole.  The  agents  which  have  changed  the 
surface  most  extensively,  are  volcanoes  and  the  wearing  of 
water.  Showers  soften  it,  streams  penetrate  every  where 
and  bear  off  all  they  can  loosen.  Rock,  mud,  vegetable 
and  animal  remains,  are  borne  to  the  bed  of  the  ocean,  to 
form  the  mass  of  future  continents.  Innumerable  mollusca 
add  their  hard  shells  ;  coral  and  other  zoophytes,  stiffen 
and  form  reefs  hundreds  of  miles  long. 

Tin's  goes  on  for  centuries,  until  around  the  continents 
the  ocean  becomes  shallow  ;  and  in  many  places  studded 
with  islands  formed  from  coral  reefs  and  old  submarine 
volcanoes. 

Then  the  subterranean  heat,  which  has  had  an  issue  in 
old  volcanoes,  receives  a  new  direction  ;  or  water,  straying 
in  the  recesses  of  the  earth,  meets  some  inflammable  sub- 
stance, and  heat  is  generated,  as  in  the  slaking  of  lime  ;  gases 
are  formed  of  prodigious  power,  and  force  themselves  up- 
ward, and  sideways,  raising  and  often  convulsing  the  crust. 
Sometimes  the  bed  of  the  sea,  for  hundreds  of  miles,  is  raised  ; 
and  the  chains  of  coral  islands  become  the  nuclei  of  moun- 
tain ranges.  The  uplifting  of  the  ground  in  Sweden,  is  a 
present  instance  of  the  slow  action  of  volcanic  power. 

The  coral  reefs  and  islands  furnish  many  interesting  les- 
sons. I  show  prints  of  lagoon  islands,  studding  the  vol- 
canic regions  of  the  sea,  more  thickly  than  the  Austra- 
lian islands.  I  describe  the  zoophytes,  so  singularly  fitted 
to  fill  up  the  ocean  :  beginning  their  labors  wherever  vol- 
canoes have  raised  their  craters  nearly  to  the  surface  of 
the  waters,  or  former  continents  have  sunk  beneath  it.  In 
their  rough  branching  surfaces,  shells,  and  then  sand,  lodge. 
They  now  rise  above  the  water  in  a  circular  form,  with 
the  steep  banks  of  the  submerged  mountain  on  their  outer 
side.  On  their  inner  side  a  lagoon  of  tranquil  water  is 
formed  ;  life  is  active  in  these  warm  regions  ;  plants,  birds, 


104 

and  small  animals  appear,  and  at  last  the  abode  is  prepared 
for  man. 

Volcanoes  are  a  fertile  subject.  The  power  of  steam 
illustrates  their  external  phenomena,  eruptions,  &tc. 

The  effect  of  heat  in  fusing  and  promoting  chemical 
union,  is  shown  by  glass.  This  stream  of  subterranean  heat, 
more  intense  than  any  we  can  produce,  passes  upward, 
fusing  and  changing  all  it  approaches.  Dark  limestone,  full 
of  shells  and  coral,  becomes  white  statuary  marble,  some- 
times for  the  distance  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 

The  breaking  forth  of  volcanoes,  the  showers  of  fire  and 
stones,  the  flowing  of  the  lava,  and  all  the  circumstances 
attending  eruptions,  take  great  hold  of  children's  imagina- 
tions. They  rejoice  that  we  have  no  volcanoes.  Then  I 
state  how  regular  the  volcanic  action  is ;  that  along  great 
tracts  of  land  there  are  volcanoes,  hot  and  mineral  springs, 
and  gaseous  vapors.  I  describe  the  Andes  agitated  from 
Terra  del  Fuego  to  Mexico  ;  their  lofty  peaks  pouring 
forth  flames  ;  and  often  twenty  or  more  of  these  flaming 
peaks  within  a  short  distance  of  each  other.  Not  a  year 
passes  without  earthquakes  ;  and  large  tracts  of  land  are 
often  raised  twenty  feet.  At  last  we  come  to  regard  the 
present  outlines  of  land  and  water  as  transient;  lasting 
enough  for  us,  but  transient  compared  to  the  whole  exis- 
tence of  the  globe.  It  has  been  happily  said,  that  the  out- 
lines of  land  and  water,  are  only  as  important,  as  the  crater 
of  Vesuvius  between  two  eruptions. 

The  description  of  the  present  surface  is  geography. 


105 


XX. 

MY  DEAR  MARY  : 

SUCCESS  in  teaching  grammar  depends  particularly  on  the 
genius  and  judgment  of  the  teacher,  who  must  herself  be 
interested  in  language,  and  able  to  trace  it,  as  it  has  grad- 
ually come  into  being  to  express  man's  ideas  ;  and  who 
must  also  have  a  nice  knowledge  of  its  rules  and  refinements. 

Every  one  knows  that  by  speech  we  express  our  ideas  ; 
but  this  vague  general  knowledge  is  not  sufficient  ;  the  child 
must  follow  the  weaving  of  each  thread,  learn  the  force 
which  each  word  gives  to  other  words,  beside  fixing  in  his 
memory  the  arbitrary  names  and  modes  of  expressing  rela- 
tions. If  the  child  is  suddenly  introduced  to  this  mass  of 
rules  and  terms,  and  required  to  fix  them  in  his  mind,  he  is 
disheartened  :  yet  it  is  desirable  to  begin  grammar  early, 
because  it  facilitates  the  acquiring  of  languages,  and  the 
understanding  of  all  studies.  In  studying  foreign  lan- 
guages he  often  gets  a  better  abstract  comprehension  of 
grammar  than  in  any  other  way.  It  is  pleasant  to  know 
that  man,  tears,  globe,  were  nouns  among  those  old  Romans, 
though  called  by  other  names.  It  is  pleasant  also  to  know 
that  they  needed  nouns,  verbs,  and  adjectives,  to  express 
themselves,  just  as  we  do  ;  to  learn  the  lasting  nature  and 
superiority  of  the  thing  expressed,  and  to  consider  the 
name  as  an  arbitrary  contrivance,  convenient  to  designate  it. 
I  very  early  lead  children  to  observe  nouns  and  verbs, 
and  at  the  age  of  six  years,  I  give  them  definite  instruction 
as  to  their  meaning  and  use. 

Grammar  is  chiefly  valuable  as  analysis  ;  hut  this  is  too 
laborious  to  exercise  young  minds  long,  so  I  allow  their 
fancy  to  construct  language  at  the  same  time  :  in  this  man- 
ner giving  them  rest  and  amusement. 

I  represent  a  man  in  the  infancy  of  the  world.  He  is 
surrounded  by  sensible  objects,  and  appropriates  a  sound 
or  name  to  each  ;  he  gives  names  also  to  the  emotions  they 
excite  in  himself;  and  he  names  persons.  Thus  he  forms 
three  kinds  of  nouns,  of  which  I  first  give  instances,  and 


106 

then  each  girl  writes  an  example  on  the  black-board,  and 
tells  whether  it  is  abstract,  common,  or  proper,  and  why. 
Then  in  some  book,  they  point  out  the  nouns  ;  and  say 
whether  each  expresses  an  emotion,  idea,  thing,  or  person. 
At  first  they  call  other  words  abstract  nouns  ;  say  they 
have  an  idea  of  blade,  an  idea  of  forward,  but  at  last  they 
learn  to  admit  no  words,  but  such  as  not  merely  suggest  a 
fact,  but  themselves  express  the  fact.  They  continue  this 
until  they  can  point  out  all  the  nouns  in  a  page  without 
fatigue  ;  then  I  introduce  number  ;  ask  how  the  savage 
could  express  to  another  whether  he  had  seen  one  lion  or 
more,  and  show  how  much  shorter  it  is  to  say  lions,  than 
to  repeat  the  word  for  each  ;  then  they  point  out  the  num- 
ber of  each  noun  in  the  printed  book. 

Next  I  take  pronouns,  words  standing  for  nouns.  I  show 
how  inconvenient  it  would  be,  to  speak  the  name  at  full 
length,  every  time  we  mention  the  person  ;  to  say,  "Elisa- 
beth, lay  aside  Elisabeth's  writing,  and  take  up  Elisabeth's 
book  :"  and  it  would  have  been  still  worse  in  ancient  times, 
when  the  names  were  often  very  long.  Think  of  a  dia- 
logue between  a  Sardanapalus  and  a  Melchisedec,  in 
which  these  names  take  the  place  of  you  and  me  !  Children 
perceive  at  once  the  tediousness  and  uselessness  of  names 
when  both  parties  are  present.  I  explain  grammatical  per- 
son, and  have  each  pronoun  learned  and  declined,  when- 
ever it  occurs.  They  tell  to  what  the  relative  and  per- 
sonal pronouns  refer  ;  if  adjective  pronouns  are  mentioned, 
I  say  they  only  point  out  their  nouns,  they  do  not  stand  for 
them. 

The  savage  observes  also  that  the  things  around  him, 
act ;  the  tree  grows,  the  water  flows,  he  himself  moves; 
these  are  all  acts,  but  not  the  same  act  ;  each  must 
be  expressed  by  a  separate  word,  and  these  words  being 
thought  the  most  important  in  the  sentence,  are  called 
the  words  or  verbs.  Then  t  explain  the  active  verbs, 
and  have  lists  of  them  made  on  the  black-board,  and 
sentences  formed  in  which  they  are  used,  and  the  reason 
given  for  their  being  called  active.  The  agent  and  object 
are  named,  and  I  now  explain  the  cases  of  nouns,  and  state 
that  the  nominative  and  object  may  be  distinguished  by 


107 

their  position  and  the  probable  meaning  of  the  sentence  } 
and  that  we  used  to  express  possession  by  such  an  expres- 
sion as,  "  John,  his  book,"  afterward  contracted  to  "  John's 
book." 

The  other  kinds  of  verbs  are  practiced  upon  and  sought 
in  like  manner  ;  the  passive  form  I  show  to  be  sometimes 
more  convenient  than  the  active  :  as  when  the  object  is  one 
and  the  agents  many.  For  instance,  "  the  bird  is  tired," 
tells  us  all  we  wish  to  know.  We  might  say,  flying,  seeking 
food,  hopping  from  branch  to  branch,  fyc.  have  tired  the 
bird.  Then  I  show  that  our  imaginary  savage  found  in 
objects,  certain  diversities  ;  this  tree  was  green,  that  bare, 
and  he  added  adjectives  to  their  names  to  express  the 
states  and  qualities  of  the  things.  I  let  one  child  tell  me 
the  adjectives  of  color,  another  those  of  quantity,  praise, 
&c.  ;  and  afterwards  point  them  out  in  the  book,  with  the 
nouns  they  describe.  Then  I  say,  here  are  two  birds  with 
sweet  notes,  but  one  sings  better  than  the  other :  how  shall 
we  mark  the  difference  in  their  voices  ?  We  can  do  it  by 
adding  two  letters  to  the  adjective  which  describes  them. 
But  I  will  inflict  on  you,  my  dear  Mary,  no  more  similar 
processes :  you  may  not  have  my  fondness  for  details.  We 
examine  every  part  of  speech  ;  first  show  the  need  of  ex- 
pressing a  certain  class  of  ideas,  then  the  words  invented 
for  the  purpose,  and  then  point  out  these  words  in  a  book. 

We  use  each  part  of  speech  in  forming  and  analyzing 
sentences,  while  its  meaning  is  fresh  in  the  thoughts.  I  am 
a  great  economist  in  this  respect.  1  never  let  my  pupils 
learn  words  or  rules  to  lay  by,  but  bring  them  into  use  at 
once.  I  cannot  bear  to  have  a  child  learn,  and  forget,  and 
learn  again ;  and  use  is  the  only  mode  of  engraving  know- 
ledge. After  the  first  simple  language,  which  answered 
the  most  immediate  purposes,  slighter  feelings  and  dis- 
tinctions were  designated  ;  a  great  variety  of  modes  of 
expression  were  created.  Not  only  new  parts  of  speech, 
but  new  ways  of  changing  and  combining  the  old  were 
formed,  and  relations  were  expressed  by  varying  the  position 
of  words  in  a  sentence.  I  think  children  taught  as  I  have 
described,  would  find  no  difficulty  in  understanding  this. 
They  would  find  blank  verse  as  easy  as  simple  prose,  be- 


108 

cause  they  would  be  guided  by  tbe  meaning.  I  have  known 
children  perplexed  when  they  began  Latin,  by  the  new 
order  of  the  words  ;  and  quite  surprised  to  learn  that  several 
different  modes  of  arranging  them  were  equally  good,  and 
that  often  only  custom  made  one  so  much  more  agreeable 
to  us  than  another :  that  bread  me.  give,  and  me  give  bread 
are  as  natural  arrangements  as  ours,  and  as  expressive  of 
the  idea.  I  remark  that  people  wrere  always  improving  on 
their  inventions,  and  not  satisfied  with  having  language 
merely  useful,  wished  to  make  it  a  delicate  instrument, 
suited  to  all  strains,  and  agreeable  to  the  ear,  so  they 
introduced  refinements,  and  made  it  rich  in  idioms  and 
synonymes.  Each  new  circumstance  or  emotion  was  ut- 
tered in  a  new  form,  and  the  rules  by  which  these  forms 
are  constructed  are  grammar  —  a  study  in  some  of  its  de- 
tails unattractive,  but  which  must  be  understood  by  all 
who  would  enter  into  the  thoughts  of  others,  or  express 
their  own  with  precision.  As  we  do  not  think  without 
these  symbols,  the  accuracy  of  thought  depends  greatly 
on  the  nicety  with  which  these  symbols  represent  it.  I 
often  please  myself  with  considering  how  much  richer  in 
meaning  the  same  word  is  to  one  man  than  to  another. 
Genius  gives  life,  from  its  own  intense  life,  to  any  word  ; 
and  feeling  and  association  give  to  insignificant  ones  a 
power  which  reaches  the  soul.  But  these  are  beyond  our 
control.  All  we  can  do  to  make  the  symbols  faithful  and 
significant,  is  to  render  the  meaning  as  luminous  as  possi- 
ble, the  first  lime  the  symbol  is  presented.  All  we  can 
do  to  enrich  each  symbol  with  association  and  suggestion 
is  to  give  to  the  mind  every  variety  of  knowledge,  and 
as  much  as  it  can  bear.  How  much  deeper  meaning 
does  a  man  find  in  his  own  language,  who  recognizes  the 
blended  streams  of  his  Norman  and  Saxon  ancestors ! 
Their  spirit  lingers  in  every  word,  breathing  of  the  mighty 
past. 

Children  generally  rebel  against  grammar,  because  it 
seems  to  them  useless.  But  when  taught  thus,  they  feel 
its  use,  and  if  there  is  a  due  proportion  of  analysis  and 
construction,  they  find  it  interesting.  Sometimes,  indeed, 
we  meet  with  a  mind  that  finds  no  pleasure  in  analysis  ;  but 


109 

even  such  a  mind  may  be  led  to  analyze  what  it  has  itself 
constructed.  I  would  not  omit  the  exercise  on  this  ac- 
count, neither  would  I  devote  more  time  to  it ;  but  I  would 
press  it  more  earnestly  during  the  time  allowed  ;  for  you 
know  it  is  my  plan  to  urge  what  a  child  is  deficient  in,  that 
symmetry  may  be  preserved,  and  more  time  left  to  be- 
stow where  there  is  a  gift,  and  promise  of  excellence. 
Most  children  like  to  pull  a  sentence  to  pieces,  and  tell 
exactly  what  it  expresses,  and  how  they  know  it.  They 
become  very  discriminating  by  this  exercise,  receive  anoth- 
er's meaning  precisely,  and  learn  to  convey  their  own  fully 
and  with  ease.  These  two  things  are  very  conducive  to  pre- 
serving good  will ;  for  I  have  too  good  an  opinion  of  my 
race  to  suppose  there  would  be  so  many  disagreements,  if 
there  were  fewer  misunderstandings.  The  tale  of  the  out- 
cast, who  throws  into  each  word  the  wo  of  years,  falls 
without  reality  on  the  ear  of  the  nursling  of  wealth.  Sin, 
bereavement,  despair,  what  do  they  mean  to  the  child  of 
happiness  ?  It  is  the  tendency  of  high  civilization  to  mul- 
tiply words,  and  at  the  same  time  to  express  whole  trage- 
dies by  one  short  phrase,  and  thus  to  produce  a  want  of 
earnestness,  and  a  dangerous  levity,  just  as  the  easy  transfer 
of  property  by  bank  notes  and  checks,  instead  of  gold  and 
solid  land,  is  thought  to  have  injured  morals,  by  leading  to 
thoughtless  risks,  because  men  cannot  realize  that  these 
notes,  passed  so  easily  from  hand  to  hand,  are  the  symbols 
of  actual  property. 

You  see  I  employ  a  great  deal  of  training  in  these  pre- 
paratory studies.  It  is  not  because  I  overrate  them,  but 
that  they  may  occupy  as  little  time,  on  the  whole, 
as  possible.  It  is  quite  embarrassing  that  the  means,  (be- 
cause we  must  have  them,)  should  be  so  early  and  so  ur- 
gently presented.  Will  not  these,  enforced  almost  as  du- 
ties, fix  themselves  in  the  tender  mind  as  the  most  im- 
portant things  in  life,  and  hide  the  portals  of  the  ever- 
lasting temple  ?  I  have  felt  the  same  difficulty  in  moral 
education.  In  civilized  society  we  lay  so  many  restrictions 
on  children,  that  it  is  surprising  their  moral  sense  ever 
works  itself  free,  or  that  they  do  not  grow  up  thinking 
that  banging  doors,  romping  about,  and  such  misdemeanors, 
10 


110 

are  as  heinous  as  moral  offences.     To  prevent  a  child's 
hurting  itself,  or  doing  mischief,  we  lay  great  stress  on 
particular  offences,  so  that  a  little  child  playing  with  fire 
often  receives  a  punishment  which  the    parent    renders 
severe    to    save   it   from   like    danger,    but  which    may 
make  a  false  impression    on   the   mind,    and  cause    the 
act  to  seem  to  the  child  a  moral  offence.     I  explain  as 
far  as  possible  to  the  child,  that  he  is  punished  to  prevent 
his  hurting  himself.     For  a  moral  offence  I  would  give 
no    punishment  which  did  not   follow   it,  as  one  of  the 
consequences ;  I   would  only  induce  sorrow  for  it.     No 
external  punishment  can  wipe  out   a  moral    offence,  or 
change   the  source  whence   it  arose.     With  the  idea  of 
being  fully  punished,  comes  the  idea  of  having  expiated  it ; 
of  having  incurred  a  debt,  suffered  for  is,  and  settled  all 
without  an  inward  change ;  and  a  moral  offence  is  treated 
as  an  equivalent  to  physical  or  intellectual  privation.     I 
would  let  the  child  take  the  separation  from  friends,  or  other 
evils,  as  one  consequence  ;  but  I  would  urge  the  more  sad 
consequences;  that  he  had  broken  the  law  of  God,  hurt 
his  own  soul,  made  it  more  difficult  to  do  right,  or  even 
to   know   the   right,   and   given   pain  to   his  parents.     I 
would  cause  him  a  spiritual  suffering,  more  keen  and  last- 
ing than  any  other  consequence,  and  I  would  often  refer  to 
it,  and  keep  the  remembrance  alive.     It  is  to  rne  very 
doubtful  how  far  men  have  a  right  to  step  in  and  adjudge 
a  strict  external  punishment  for  a  moral  offence,  except  in 
self-defence.     For  we  may  suppose  that  He  who  knoweth 
the  heart  and  its  bitterness,  chooseth  hidden  and  loving 
ways  to  bring  about  the  return  of  the  sinner. 


Ill 


XXI. 

MX  DEAR  MART  : 

I  SPOKE  in  my  last  of  the  importance  of  keeping  the 
great  ideas  present,  while  we  secure  skill  and  knowledge  of 
details.  I  will  now  mention  another  division,  which  may 
be  made  among  the  studies.  In  some,  as  spelling,  reading, 
arithmetic,  I  cannot  give  much  assistance  ;  the  children 
must  make  each  fact  their  own,  and  themselves  perform 
each  operation.  In  grammar  and  geography  I  can  help 
them  more.  In  sciences,  in  natural  history,  and  in  history, 
I  state  the  facts,  explain,  classify  them,  and  show  the  law, 
and  they  reach  these  only  through  me.  -  Thus  the  first 
question  to  be  decided  in  each  study  is,  how  far  I  had  best 
give  aid  ?  Languages  belong  to  both  of  these  divisions, 
for  I  can  aid  them  very  much,  and  still  a  geat  deal  must  be 
done  by  themselves.  Languages  enlarge  and  enrich  the 
mind,  exercise  the  powers  of  analysis  and  combination, 
compel  accuracy,  and  strengthen  the  memory.  It  has  been 
said,  that  a  man  is  so  often  a  man,  as  he  knows  different 
languages ;  and  the  number  spoken  by  many  persons 
abroad,  proves  the  ease  with  which  they  are  acquired. 
No  doubt  some  persons  acquire  them  more  readily  than 
others,  and  one  who  is  slow  of  eye  or  ear  would  be  unwise 
to  attempt  more  than  one  or  two.  But  a  great  deal  may 
be  accomplished  if  they  are  taught  while  the  organs  are 
flexible,  the  perceptions  keen,  and  the  mind  unembarrassed. 
They  should  also  be  learned  thoroughly,  methodically,  and 
usually  one  at  a  time  ;  and  the  knowledge  should  be  used 
as  it  is  acquired.  I  prefer  teaching  both  Latin  and  German 
before  French,  not  only  because  they  are  the  keys  of  bur 
language,  but  for  their  innate  worth  ;  Latin  for  its  simplicity, 
regularity  and  conciseness  ;  German  for  its  expressiveness 
and  overflowing  wealth.  The  German  tongue  always  seems 
to  me  like  the  Christmas  present  a  good  notable  German 
mother  prepares  for  her  absent  son.  She  makes  it  up  of 
substantial  gifts,  comfortable  wrappers,  the  product  of  her 


112 

industry ;  huge  tomes,  criticisms,  squibs,  caricatures,  to  let 
him  know  all  that  is  going  on  in  the  good  town  ;  the  sister's 
embroidered  smoking-cap,  the  brother's  last  theme,  the  lit- 
tle boy's  puppets,  made  all  by  himself;  and  Cousin  Wil- 
helmina's  sketch  of  the  family,  not  omitting  the  absent  one. 
These  and  many  more  the  mother  stows  into  the  groan- 
ing box,  defending  each  by  some  argument  satisfactory  to 
herself,  and  protesting  all  the  time  that  Gottfried  will  think 
himself  quite  forgotten.  As  the  good  woman  would  make 
the  heaped-up  box  the  vehicle  of  her  yearning  affection, 
the  German  author  would  make  his  writing  the  precise  ex- 
pression of  his  entire  thought.  If  the  words  are  not  suffi- 
cient, he  prefixes  the  expressive  particles  ;  developes  one 
shade  of  meaning  after  another,  heaps  word  on  word,  su- 
perlative on  superlative,  qualifying,  explaining,  holding 
back  one  part,  until  the  other  has  had  its  effect,  and  the 
whole  idea  obtains  satisfactory  utterance.  At  first,  Ger- 
man appears  loaded  and  confused,  from  the  very  simplicity 
of  its  formation.  When  a  new  expression  was  wanted,  it 
was  formed  in  the  most  natural  manner  from  old  ones  ;  and 
we  see  its  grammar  at  once,  in  these  successive  changes, 
just  as  we  trace  the  progress  of  an  art  in  the  huge 
wooden  machine,  whose  wheels  added  to  wheels  are  so 
many  memoranda  of  obstacles  overcome.  In  the  patent 
iron  machine  all  trace  of  the  process  is  obliterated,  and  we 
too  often  use  it  without  knowing  how  many  powers  are  at 
work.  In  the  machine,  however,  the  convenient  result 
answers  our  whole  purpose  ;  but  language  loses  force, 
when,  from  any  cause,  it  ceases  to  convey  the  original 
meaning.  This  is  often  lost  from  over  use,  as  when  the 
happy  expression  of  a  great  man,  bandied  about  in  news- 
papers, becomes  unmeaning  and  tiresome.  Thoughts  too 
sententiously  delivered,  too  much  filed  away,  lose  weight; 
and  words  have  to  me  more  significance,  when,  like  the  Ger- 
man words,  they  proclaim  their  origin,  and  tell  their  own 
tale.  The  French  words  are  just  the  reverse  of  these. 
They  have  been  polished  until  they  have  lost  their  original 
meaning ;  and  it  takes  a  life-time  to  learn  all  the  proprie- 
ties arbitrarily  connected  with  them.  The  idioms,  instead 
of  arising  from  a  national  mode  of  treating  subjects,  are  often 


113 

bon-mots,  and  court  phrases,  passed  into  the  current  coin  of 
the  realm.  But  there  is  one  reason  for  beginning  French 
first.  Its  sounds  are  more  unlike  ours,  and  children 
lose  the  flexibility  of  their  organs  quite  early  ;  and  as  long 
as  it  is  the  most  universal,  and  the  polite  language,  it  will 
be  that  most  frequently  learned.  As  I  have  my  young- 
est pupils  in  the  house  with  me,  I  begin  in  what  is  certainly 
the  best  mode,  the  mode  in  which  they  learned  their  own 
language.  At  table,  at  play,  while  walking,  I  mention 
French  names  and  phrases,  and  tell  them  "  that  is  what 
French  children  say."  They  can  as  easily  remember  a 
French  and  an  English  name  for  a  thing,  as  two  English 
ones,  and  hearing  them  without  the  spelling,  they  are  not 
perplexed.  A  child  should  be  six  years  old  to  begin  to 
learn  French  in  school.  Some  persons  may  think,  perhaps, 
that  I  teach  French  too  thoroughly  ;  that  it  merits  only  to 
be  read  and  pronounced  well,  and  that  I  take  the  time 
from  more  important  things  ;  but  half  of  those  who  learn  it 
will  never  learn  any  other  language ;  and  I  think  it  very 
desirable  that  every  one  should  undergo  the  discipline  of 
studying  one  language  thoroughly,  beside  his  own ;  and 
knowledge  gained  thus,  remains  through  life,  or  at  least, 
can  be  easily  recalled. 

I  teach  the  alphabet,  and  the  b,  a,  ba-s  with  the 
French  pronunciation,  practicing  each  sound  until  they  can 
utter  it  with  ease.  Then  in  a  little  book,  called  l  Lectures 
Graduees,'  I  spell  each  word  with  them,  dividing  it,  pro- 
nouncing it,  and  naming  the  accent  in  the  spelling,  precise- 
ly as  French  children  are  taught.  As  soon  as  they  can 
spell,  they  learn  a  few  words  every  day,  and  recite  first  the 
French,  and  then  the  English,  still  spelling  every  day,  to 
keep  in  mind  the  sounds  of  the  letters.  In  a  month  or 
more,  I  give  some  printed  rules  for  pronouncing  French. 
Though  these  are  not  of  universal  application,  they  are 
guides  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  and  if  used  with  a  teacher, 
will  not  mislead.  Children  are  discouraged  by  the  total 
newness  of  French  sounds,  and  are  afraid  to  open  their 
lips. 

A  new   study  is   like    a  tiresome  or  wintry  journey, 
where  the  best  defence  is  a  brave   and  cheerful  spirit : 
10* 


114 

therefore  I  am  very  careful  to  remove  all  obstacles  of  a 
depressing  nature,  and  all  fear.  I  often  give  a  slight 
sketch  of  the  new  study,  touch  on  its  difficulties  as  needing 
only  good  heart,  and  show  what  particular  efforts  will  be 
required  to  overcome  them.  Then  I  remind  them  that  they 
have  left  many  difficulties  behind,  and  have  enjoyed  rich 
rewards  for  their  labors.  I  tell  them,  that  I  suppose  they 
think  it  a  great  undertaking  to  learn  another  language,  but 
it  is  a  very  simple  thing  ;  at  first,  they  have  only  to  learn 
a  new  name  for  old  things  ;  they  would  not  find  it  difficult 
to  call  a  bowl,  a  basin,  if  their  mother  desired  it.  I  ac- 
knowledge there  are  greater  difficulties  in  learning  French 
because  the  sounds  are  unlike  ours,  and  the  same  characters 
represent  sounds  different  from  ours.  But  neither  of 
these  are  insuperable  ;  there  are  many  sounds  in  the  human 
voice,  beside  those  we  use  in  our  language ;  some  nations 
use  nasal  sounds  chiefly,  others  gutturals ;  those  who 
live  in  a  cold  climate  keep  their  mouths  shut,  and 
utter  nothing  but  consonants ;  those  who  live  in  a  warm 
climate  use  open  sounds,  or  vowels.  I  set  the  children  to 
inventing  new  sounds,  and  when  the  prejudice  in  favor  of 
their  own  language  is  quite  overcome,  I  teach  the  French 
sounds.  Then  I  tell  them  that  we  received  our  charac- 
ters from  the  Romans  ;  that  we  can  still  read  their  manu- 
scripts, though  we  do  not  know  precisely  how  they  sounded 
the  letters ;  that  when  the  Roman  empire  fell  asunder, 
some  of  the  provinces  retained  the  written  characters  ; 
that,  had  there  been  steamboats  and  railroads,  so  that  all 
the  people  could  travel,  and  hear  each  other  speak,  the  Latin 
language  might  have  been  spoken  by  the  Italians,  Spaniards, 
French,  English,  and  perhaps  Germans,  to  this  day.  But 
these  nations  were  for  many  ages  separated  from  each 
other,  and  each  formed  its  own  mode  of  pronouncing  the 
letters,  or  adapted  them  to  sounds  they  used  before  they 
had  a  written  language.  At  present  we  are  to  learn  only 
the  sounds  which  the  French  attach  to  these  characters  ; 
but  we  must  know  these  as  thoroughly  as  the  English 
sounds  before  we  can  proceed.  Then  I  remind  them, 
that  in  English  each  vowel  has  several  sounds,  and  give 
instances ;  and  say  that  by  patience  they  have  learned  all 


115 

these,  and  the  French  sounds  are  not  so  numerous,  and  are 
more  regular.  They  take  their  printed  books,  and  I 
give  out  the  long  and  broad  sound  of  a,  and  mention 
when  it  takes  place.  We  repeat  the  examples  very  often, 
taking  pains  to  get  the  exact  sound.  The  next  day  each 
scholar  recites  the  cases  in  which  a  is  broad,  and  gives 
a  few  examples  ;  then  I  point  to  the  a-s  in  a  page  of 
'  Lectures  Graduees,'  and  ask  of  each,  if  it  is  long,  and  the 
reason.  Sometimes  the  children  are  ready  for  a  new  rule 
after  one  recitation.  When  there  is  a  great  variety  of 
cases,  they  require  more  practice  to  point  them  out  easily. 
Then  I  give  the  sound  of  a  short  and  open,  and  mention  the 
positions  in  which  it  occurs  ;  this  is  learned  and  recited  in 
the  same  manner ;  and  the  next  day  they  can  tell  all  the 
simple  a-s.  Several  sentences  are  spelled,  and  phrases 
recited  each  day.  This  gives  variety ;  and,  though  it 
would  be  irksome  to  older  girls,  the  obstacles  are  just 
the  size  for  little  folks.  I  go  over  every  simple  and  every 
compound  sound  in  the  same  manner ;  they  learn  first  the 
sound,  then  in  what  positions  of  the  character  it  takes 
place ;  they  then  select  these  positions  in  the  book,  and 
recite  the  rule.  This  requires  short  daily  lessons  for  a 
year ;  but  it  is  learned  for  life.  Then  the  child  takes  up 
her  French  book,  and  if  she  hesitates,  I  say,  "  e,  with  the 
grave  accent ;  what  sound  has  that  ?  "  and  if  her  rule  is 
not  ready,  she  must  learn  it  again.  With  these  rules  to 
guide  her,  she  is  willing  to  pronounce  by  herself.  Of 
course,  we  have  met  with  some  exceptions,  which  I  have 
mentioned,  and  they  have  marked  these  in  their  books,  or 
made  lists  of  them  ;  and  they  know  the  meaning  of  some 
hundreds  of  words  thoroughly.  At  this  stage,  if  they  are 
ten  years  old,  I  give  an  easy  book,  and  let  them  look  for 
the  words.  If  younger,  I  give  them  an  interlined  book ; 
because  the  object  is  to  teach  as  many  French  words  as 
possible,  and  they  would  learn  very  few,  if  they  had 
them  all  to  seek  in  the  dictionary.  The  fable  is  read 
in  the  part  of  the  book  that  is  not  interlined  ;  then  pro- 
nounced and  partly  spelled ;  and  then  I  ask  almost  every 
French  word,  and  some  of  the  English  words.  In  a  few 
months  they  can  do  this  with  ease,  and  then  I  proceed  to 


116 

the  study  of  the  French  verbs.  I  know  of  no  way  to  make 
these  interesting ;  but  they  may  be  learned  with  tolerable 
ease  when  the  pronunciation  is  known,  and  only  the 
changes  of  the  moods  and  tenses  are  new.  I  keep  the 
children  in  the  interlined  book,  until  the  regular  and  irreg- 
ular verbs  are  perfectly  learned,  and  something  is  known 
of  the  articles,  adjectives,  and  pronouns.  Then  the  child 
is  prepared  to  take  an  easy  book,  and  work  her  way  on  to 
the  hardest.  All  a  teacher  has  to  do  henceforward,  is  to 
explain  difficult  passages,  point  out  conventionalisms,  id- 
ioms, and  exceptions  in  pronunciation.  The  lessons  should 
at  first  be  short.  The  child  should  be  required  to  select  the 
verbs  and  nouns,  as  in  English  grammar,  and  point  out 
their  relations  to  other  words  j  she  should  give  the  synop- 
sis of  the  verbs,  in  whatever  number  and  person  that  is 
she  is  parsing  ;  form  it  from  its  primitive  tenses,  tell  how 
it  is  used,  &c.  I  always  let  her  practice  every  thing 
frequently  at  first,  that  she  may  not  lose  the  links,  and 
afterward  more  rarely.  When  parsing  is  discontinued, 
writing  exercises  takes  its  place.  This  should  be  practiced 
until  they  are  written  correctly,  as  to  grammar  and  con- 
struction. Those  who  would  write  or  speak  French  ele- 
gantly, must  learn  of  a  native  ;  therefore  I  have  not  men- 
tioned writing  it  thus  or  speaking  it.  Perhaps  you  will 
think  all  these  minutiae  needless ;  that  I  make  it  too  labo- 
rious ;  but  the  minutiae  are  suited  to  the  grasp,  and  the 
time  is  spent  now,  to  be  saved  when  more  valuable.  A 
child  taught  thus,  will  find  no  difficulties  after  two  or  three 
years  study,  and  we  know  how  many  children  study  that 
length  of  time  in  a  less  methodical  manner,  without  learning 
either  to  pronounce  or  to  translate. 


117 


XXII. 

MY  DEAR  MARY  : 

As  I  have  described  my  mode  of  teaching  French  so 
fully,  I  will  not  say  much  about  Latin.  I  am  disposed  to 
have  every  girl  of  tolerable  industry  and  capacity  learn  it. 
Its  grammar  thoroughly  learned  gives  insight  into  most  oth- 
ers. It  also  gives  a  more  definite  meaning  to  our  language, 
and  the  clue  to  French,  Spanish,  and  particularly  to  Italian. 
I  begin  it  when  French  has  been  studied  two  years,  and 
its  first  difficulties  are  overcome.  I  use  the  Vocabulary 
and  Phasdrus,  that  the  children  may  become  interested  in 
the  language  before  they  begin  the  grammar.  In  all  the 
lessons  I  am  very  particular  to  have  not  merely  the  quan- 
tity but  the  accent  preserved.  I  do  not  allow  the  nouns 
or  the  verbs  to  be  declined  in  that  hasty,  slovenly  manner, 
which  is  too  common.  I  trace  the  English  and  French 
words  formed  from  the  Latin  ones,  and  show  their  changes. 
By  doing  this  every  time  a  word  appears,  it  is  fixed  in  their 
memory  and  made  interesting.  Children  perceive  and 
remember  such  things  wonderfully,  if  they  are  once  pointed 
out.  I  insist  on  perfect  accuracy  in  the  recitations,  and 
reward  it  by  interesting  details  about  the  Roman  history 
and  customs.  Words  are  rather  dry,  and  if  I  am  satisfied 
with  the  recitation  I  allow  the  lesson  to  suggest  what  it 
will ;  and  a  good  deal  of  information  is  brought  out  in  the 
course  of  studying  Latin,  which  otherwise  might  be  passed 
over.  Even  the  Vocabulary,  by  giving  the  names  of  com- 
mon things,  introduces  an  account  of  the  habits  of  the 
Romans.  Thus  stylus,  a  pen,  if  the  lesson  has  been  well 
recited,  gives  occasion  to  describe  their  mode  of  writing ; 
but  if  the  lesson  be  not  satisfactory,  a  glimpse  of  the  un- 
known is  afforded  and  withdrawn  with  a  regret.  Some- 
times I  brighten  a  tiresome  lesson  by  the  beautiful  and 
expressive  creations  of  mythology.  The  Grecian  concep- 
tions should  not  be  known,  only  through  the  Roman  ap- 


118 

prehension  of  them  ;  but  the  constant  allusion  to  them  in 
Latin  books  gives  them  an  air  of  reality,  and  serves 
for  an  introduction.  Did  you  ever  observe  how  much 
interest  children  take  in  any  thing  suggested  by  the  text ; 
and  how  difficult  it  is  to  interest  them  at  once  in  that 
about  which  they  know  nothing.  I  have  often  been  dis- 
appointed, on  bringing  into  school  an  account  of  some  fact 
or  discovery  which  interested  me,  to  find  the  scholars  quite 
insensible  to  it.  They  would  listen  eagerly  at  first,  but  I 
soon  saw  it  was  not  appreciated  ;  they  had  never  met  the 
difficulty,  and  could  not  rejoice  in  its  solution.  I  have 
met  with  similar  disappointments  in  their  reception  of 
books.  If  it  is  a  scientific  book,  or  one  whose  worth 
has  been  tested  by  ages,  I  know  that  it  is  their  want  of 
preparation,  and  it  loses  no  value  in  my  eyes :  but  if  it  is 
more  a  matter  of  taste,  I  feel  quite  a  painful  anxiety  that 
it  should  please.  We,  who  know  the  worth  of  all  know- 
ledge, are  scarcely  aware  how  exclusively  children  value 
that  of  which  they  have  felt  the  want.  I  recollect  in  Mrs. 
Barbauld's  early  lessons,  she  gives  a  pleasing  account  of 
the  attraction  of  straws  by  amber.  I  never  knew  a  young 
child  interested  in  it,  because  no  young  child  could  ever 
see  why  amber  should  not  draw  straws. 

Mythology  is  one  of  the  subjects  I  wished  to  introduce  as 
a  lesson,  and  which  they  did  not  appreciate.  Since  then, 
I  have  kept  it  to  brighten  the  duller  paths.  I  cannot  bear 
that  the  conceptions  of  the  Greeks,  so  noble,  so  sugges- 
tive, so  full  of  meaning  even  in  the  details,  so  teeming  with 
life  and  beauty,  should  be  wanting  to  their  education  ;  yet, 
if  we  offer  a  small  book  to  be  studied,  they  have  merely  the 
bare  description  of  an  imaginary  being  ;  the  grace,  the 
fragrance,  the  reality  is  gone.  If  we  give  a  larger  book, 
the  child  is  perplexed  by  the  multitude  of  new  words  and 
strange  persons,  and  wants  to  know  all  about  each,  ending 
all  inquiries  by  the  unanswerable  one,  Is  it  true  ?  and, 
why  should  we  learn  it,  if  it  is  not  ?  It  is  .  revolting 
to  most  children's  sense  of  truth  and  of  the  value  of  time  to 
have  any  thing  given  them  to  study,  which  is  not  true. 
They  like  to  read  fairy  and  fictitious  tales,  but  they  demand 
something,  upon  which  they  can  rest  with  perfect  faith  for 


119 

their  graver  hours.  Beside,  there  is  no  age,  in  very  early 
life,  at  which  mythology,  as  a  whole,  can  be  introduced. 
Conceived  by  minds  like  ours  in  nature,  but  very  differently 
situated,  it  presents  the  grandest  eternal  truths,  blended 
with  trivial  or  indefensible  circumstances.  In  some  in- 
stances, the  garb  is  puerile  or  extravagant,  and  if  we  offer 
the  whole  to  the  child,  it  seizes  the  absurd  incidents,  or 
those  offensive  to  its  moral  sense,  and  cannot  enter  into  the 
deeper  meaning.  If  we  offer  it  to  older  girls,  they  see  the 
inward  meaning,  but  reject  the  embodying.  It  is  only  when 
we  are  still  older,  that  we  become  more  tolerant,  and  wel- 
come worth  in  whatever  strange  apparel  the  age  has 
dressed  it.  By  teaching  it  orally,  I  can  adapt  my  interpreta- 
tions to  different  ages.  I  often  repeat  the  same  story,  or 
ask  for  it  when  alluded  to  in  different  books.  Thus  some- 
thing of  the  Grecian  spirit  is  imbibed. 


XXIII. 

MY  DEAR  MARY  : 

ALREADY  I  anticipate  your  objections  to  the  details  in 
my  last.  You  are  in  pain  for  my  poor  scholars ;  you  think 
I  demand  too  much  acquirement  from  them ;  that  I  keep 
them  too  much  in  the  concrete,  the  region  of  petty  things. 
All  the  time  I  was  writing  of  arithmetic,  grammar,  and 
the  languages,  there  was  in  my  ear  a  distant  murmur  of 
disapprobation,  and  as  I  am  very  fond  of  answering  objec- 
tions before  they  can  be  stated,  I  intend  you  shall  receive 
this  to-morrow,  and  look  very  silly  over  ycT.r  penned  rJ1 
rnonsf^irce.  I  acknowledge,  that  thus  far  the  concrete 
predominates,  as  it  must,  considered  as  to  time  given  in 
early  youth  ;  but  I  should  be  as  unwilling  as  you  to  let  this 
predominance  continue ;  it  should  diminish  gradually,  as  the 
mind  gradually  rises  to  the  perception  of  abstract  truth. 


120 

Nor  are  these  their  only  present  influences  ;  I  have  ac- 
counted to  you  only  for  the  early  part  of  the  forenoon.     If 
there  are  no  lessons  to  be  recited  a  second  time,  we  have 
nearly  an  hour's  conversation  after  intermission.     All  the 
day's  lessons  are  recited  before  intermission,  and  those  for 
the  next  day,  are  learned  after  the  conversation.     And  let 
me  remind  you,  that  this  hour  comes  daily,  for  ten  years, 
giving  time,  you  will  suppose,  for  more  than  I  could  fur- 
nish from  my  unassisted  head.     It  is  during  this  time  that 
the  elements  of  the  sciences  have  been  communicated  to 
the  little  ones.     When  they  are  older,  I  use  a  text-book, 
that  we  may  proceed  regularly  and   omit  nothing.     I  look 
over  the  lesson  previously,  consult  other  books,  think  how 
to  present   it  and  illustrate  it,  and  determine  how  much 
they  can  comprehend.     The  text-book  often  remains  with 
the  mark  at  the  same  place  for  some  time,  but  at  last  the 
mark  moves  on.     In  this  manner  I  first  took  Grund's  Phy- 
sics, and  each  paragraph  furnished  several  conversations, 
and  the  illustrations  which  the  children  offered,  proved  how 
fully  they  understood  some  phenomena  which  to  us  appear 
difficult.      I  remember  one  girl   perceived   instantly   how 
water  would  find  its  level  on  a  globe.     After  some  months 
given  to  physics,  I  take  some  very  different  subject  —  per- 
haps the  natural  history  of  a  particular  class  of  animals,  or 
the  physiology  of  plants,  according  to  the  season.     I  rep- 
resent the  principle  of  life  entering  into  matter,  moulding 
it,  expanding  it,  and  giving  birth  to  new  and  beautiful  exis- 
tences.    I  describe  the  simplest  animals  and  the  simplest 
vegetables,  so  similar  that  we  can  scarcely  distinguish  them ; 
then,  as  they  become  more  perfect,  forming  two  ascending 
series,  continually  more  separate  and  unlike  each  other  as 
they  rise.     Thus  the  samphire  and  the  prickly  pear  seem 
only  a  succession  of  expansions  of  loose  pulpy  matter  enclosed 
in  a  skin,  and  each  part  may  be  separated  and  grow  into  a 
whole  plant.     The  aquatic  worms  are  a  similar  prolonga- 
tion of  loose  sacks  which  become  ribbed  across  in  certain 
places  ;    at  each  division  appear  two  blank  points,  the  be- 
ginnings of  eyes  ;  the  separations  become  more  marked  and 
the  body  divides  into  several  bodies  which  are  perfect  nereis. 
Some  polypi  increase  by  putting  forth  new  tubercles,  like 


121 

a  bulbous  root  or  crocus.  Then  we  compare  the  finely 
organized  animals  and  plants,  and  find  them  unlike  in 
many  particulars,  and  not  to  be  mistaken  for  each  other. 
The  lion  has  a  heart,  lungs,  brain,  red  blood,  terrible  eyes, 
strong  limbs,  a  flowing  mane,  a  separate  organ  for  each 
function,  and  many  functions  peculiar  to  animal  life. 
The  oak  has  become  a  community  of  distinct  individuals 
bound  up  in  one,  having  a  common  life  and  an  individual 
life  renewed  each  spring.  By  its  yearly  growth,  it  has  ac- 
cumulated a  great  trunk,  spreading  branches,  rugged  bark, 
and  it  has  many  organs  unknown  to  the  cactus,  each  with 
its  separate  function  peculiar  to  vegetable  life.  Then  we 
-notice  that  animals  have  an  internal  organic  life,  like  that 
of  plants ;  have  circulation  and  respiration,  and  also  an 
outward  life,  of  the  senses,  which  makes  them  perceive, 
desire,  and  seek  foreign  things.  Accordingly  the  plant 
lives  and  dies  where  it  first  took  root,  having  very  little 
connexion  with  external  things,  and  no  power  of  locomo- 
tion. But  the  animal  approaches  and  shuns  things  at  plea- 
sure, having  the  power  of  moving  about. 

Then  from  a  good  author  we  read  and  talk  about  some 
one  class  of  birds  or  animals  ;  we  observe  how  they  are 
distinguished  from  others  ;  remark  their  structure,  habits, 
haunts.  After  a  few  months  given  to  these,  and  many  re- 
petitions of  their  anatomy  and  physiology  whenever  minor 
varieties  are  introduced,  I  say  to  them  that  they  must  keep 
these  in  their  memory,  and  by  and  by  we  shall  take  up 
another  class. 

Then  I  pass  to  chemistry  :  I  give  instances  of  motion 
and  change  in  the  inorganic  world,  for  which  physical 
laws  do  not  account.  Vapor  rises  and  forms  clouds, 
no  mechanical  force  impels  it ;  it  falls  and  becomes  solid 
ice  ;  it  expands  and  bears  along  the  load  of  a  hundred 
horses.  What  makes  it  solid  and  expands  it?  What 
moves  the  lightning  and  the  northern  lights  ?  The  princi- 
ple of  life  does  not  directly  change  water  and  air  to  leaves 
and  juicy  fruits,  nor  directly  color  the  blossom  and  the 
wood.  As  far  as  we  can  penetrate,  these  effects  are  brought 
about  by  certain  chemical  affinities  in  the  particles,  which 
make  them  unite  and  form  new  substances.  In  the  animal 
11 


122 

the  principle  of  life  does  not  convert  simple  nourishment 
immediately  to  bones,  sinews,  flesh,  and  fine  organs  ;  but 
these  are  formed  by  what  we  call  affinities  in  matter  itself. 
These  laws,  which  supersede  mechanical  laws,  and  which 
serve  the  principle  of  life,  we  call  chemical.  They,  and  the 
subjects  connected  with  them,  form  interesting  topics,  be- 
cause they  are  so  frequently  suggested  by  the  common 
occurrences  of  life. 

In  the  spring,  I  take  up  vegetable  physiology.  I  begin 
with  the  seed  ;  describe  its  swelling  ;  the  chemical  changes 
which  take  place  to  nourish  the  germ ;  its  radicle  fixedly 
seeking  the  earth  ;  its  plumula  as  obstinately  turned  toward 
the  light  ;  the  activity  of  each  organ  from  the  moment  it 
is  developed  ;  the  root  instinctively  imbibing  nourishment 
and  passing  it  up  to  the  tiny  leaves  ;  the  leaves  or  aerial 
roots  breathing  in  nourishment  from  the  air  and  sending 
down  solid  particles  to  form  the  wood  ;  and  the  stem  serving 
as  a  living  soil  to  produce  new  shoots.  Then  I  describe  our 
trees  with  their  wide  dome-like  tops  and  irregular  branches, 
bearing  small  fruits  and  leaves,  and  the  tropical  trees  shoot- 
ing upward  a  confused  mass  of  wood  and  bark,  often  very 
slender,  without  branches,  and  of  enormous  height,  and 
frequently  bearing  on  their  summit  only  a  single  fruit. 
The  immense  size  and  deep  green  of  their  leaves  ;  their 
peculiar  habits  and  productions  ;  their  rapid  vegetation  ; 
their  trunks  abounding  with  milky  juices  and  aromatic  odors  ; 
their  fruits  so  luxuriant  and  delicious,  and  of  a  size  unknown 
here  ;  all  form  interesting  lessons.  Then  I  tell  them  that 
throughout  our  trees  are  dormant  buds  which  may  be  called 
into  action  by  light  and  by  abundance  of  heat  and  nourish- 
ment ;  that  some  of  these  become  leaves  and  branches  : 
others,  flowers  and  fruits.  When  a  sufficient  number  of 
leaves  has  been  developed  to  supply  air  and  nourishment 
to  the  plant,  shorter  shoots  are  sent  out,  but,  being  sup- 
plied with  the  same  abundance  of  sap,  they  swell  at  the 
extremities  and  form  richer  organs.  Instead  of  the  simple 
green  leaves,  disposed  sparingly  along  the  stem,  many  of 
the  germs  which  would  have  formed  them  are  brought 
together  in  a  whorl ;  the  first  whorl  is  exposed  to  the  air  ;  it 
has  usually  no  beauty,  and  often  keeps  the  form  of  leaves  j 


123 

from  its  shelter  bursts  another  whorl,  colored  by  a  chem- 
ical process,  broad,  soft  and  brilliant,  forming  the  corolla 
of  the  flower.  The  corolla  folds  over  an  inner  whorl  until 
this  requires  the  sun,  then  turns  back  and  falls  ;  the  inner 
whorl  drops  its  farina  on  the  pistil  and  the  seed  is  prepared. 
With  how  many  wonders  and  beauties  has  it  been  ushered 
in  ;  not  striking  from  their  magnitude,  but  exquisite  in  their 
adaptation  !  From  the  first  sprouting  of  the  seed  to  the 
ripening  of  the  fruit,  how  subordinate  is  each  part  to  the 
whole  !  what  a  lesson  to  the  mortal  who  complains  of  his 
lot  as  an  obscure  or  fruitless  part  of  the  great  whole ! 
What  would  become  of  a  plant  had  each  part  free-will 
and  selfish  desires  ?  Would  it  adapt  itself  to  circumstances 
of  climate  and  situation,  and  thus  prepare  more  delicate 
and  lovely  developements  ?  In  India,  the  horse-chestnut 
exposes  its  leaves  and  blossoms  bare  to  the  air.  Here  it 
wraps  them  in  countless  covers,  and  each  scale  is  a  leaf 
sacrificed  to  our  colder  climate.  It  would  be  melancholy 
to  pull  asunder  the  leaf-bud  of  a  walnut  and  count  its 
golden  scales,  had  not  Nature,  in  denying  them  life  as 
leaves,  given  them  a  new  form  of  beauty,  folding  them 
round  the  tender  bud  in  a  long  slender  cone.  To  these 
degenerate  leaves,  we  owe  the  cup  of  the  acorn,  the  cone 
of  the  fir,  and  other  of  our  most  graceful  forms.  Then 
I  show  how  Nature,  by  directing  the  energy  to  any  one 
part  or  organ,  developes  peculiar  properties,  and  makes 
it  agreeable  or  useful  to  man.  In  warm  countries,  out  of 
a  bare  rock  rises  the  tree  so  famed  by  travellers  for  its 
vegetable  milk.  Its  leaves  are  dry  and  leathery  ;  the 
juice  tends  to  the  trunk,  is  elaborated  there,  and  yields  an 
abundant  and  refreshing  draught  in  a  country  where  months 
pass  without  rain.  The  butter-tree,  the  sugar-maple,  the 
numerous  gum  and  India-rubber  trees,  show  us  what  abun- 
dance may  be  prepared  by  a  single  organ. 

Then  I  show  the  formation  of  fruit ;  perhaps  the  most 
astonishing  instance  of  the  variety  Nature  produces.  By 
the  simplest  means  she  makes  a  delicious  fruit,  now  of  the 
calyx,  now  of  the  seed-vessel,  now  of  the  seed  itself,  or 
even  of  its  receptacle  ;  and  changes  the  envelope  into  the 
most  fragrant  spice  ;  or  into  cotton,  abundant  minister  to 


124 

the  wants  of  man.  But  I  will  dwell  no  longer  on  this  or 
other  sciences ;  you  are  now  familiar  with  my  mode  of 
teaching. 


XXIV. 

MY  DEAR  MARY  : 

THERE  is  one  subject  which  I  have  not  touched  upon  5 
yet  its  culture  belongs  to  every  age.  Nothing  can 
exceed  the  distress  caused  to  most  children  over  six 
years,  by  a  demand  for  composition  ;  but  these  children 
would  have  been  willing,  at  three,  to  describe  every  walk, 
object,  or  amusement  they  had  enjoyed.  At  that  age,  need 
of  sympathy  and  their  great  life  lead  them  to  reproduce  ;  and 
the  novelty  of  objects  and  the  nice  perceptions  of  children 
make  them  describe  vividly  and  graphically.  But  we  are 
apt  to  be  too  selfish  and  too  much  cumbered  with  other 
things.  We  check  the  flow  of  talk  as  it  is  gushing  forth, 
and  then,  when  we  have  leisure  and  inclination,  we  call 
the  child  to  us,  and  wonder  that  it  has  nothing  to  say.  If 
we  are  sitting  alone  in  a  room  with  nothing  to  engage  a 
child,  we  may,  with  all  our  resources,  find  it  difficult  to  fix 
its  attention  ;  but  if  we  take  it  the  length  of  the  street,  we 
shall  be  overwhelmed  with  questions.  It  has  not  in  itself 
sufficient  subjects  for  thought,  and  we  must  present  these, 
if  we  would  have  the  child  talk  or  write. 

How  rare  are  conversational  powers  in  this  country  ! 
Perhaps  the  reserve  and  constraint  of  manner  which  we 
inherit  from  our  pilgrim  fathers  is  one  cause.  All  may 
have  these  powers  ;  the  universe  lies  open  to  all ;  all  have 
thoughts  and  feelings  which  may  be  uttered  without  viola- 
ting dignity  and  delicacy  of  character.  But  we  lose  the 
habit  and  power  of  expressing  ourselves  freely  before  we 


125 

begin  to  value  it.  Among  grown  persons  we  are  con- 
tented if  each  speaks  well  on  any  one  subject ;  and  there 
is  a  tacit  sliding  into  that.  Now  I  do  not  object  to  a  per- 
son's being  particularly  interested  in  one  subject,  and  there- 
fore excelling  in  it,  but  I  do  object  to  his  being  limited  to 
this.  And  I  also  object  to  the  conversation  of  any  coterie 
or  clique  whatever,  as  being  liable  to  take  always  one 
character. 

Society  should  answer  and  sympathize  with  all  our  wants. 
When  only  one  power  is  gratified,  it  is  soon  wearied,  and 
longs  for  rest.  We  feel  this  with  highly-cultivated  people, 
if  they  are  not  our  near  friends  also  ;  and  we  turn  to  the 
hearty  cordial  human  natures  for  refreshment.  But  the 
discourse  of  these  does  not  satisfy  us  long,  unless  they  will 
accompany  us  into  the  regions  of  higher  thought.  Again, 
conversation  too  abstract  fatigues  us,  and  we  are  glad  to 
hear  about  things  and  persons ;  we  listen  eagerly  to  traits 
of  character,  scattered  like  gold-dust  through  life,  until 
we  are  tired  of  collecting  particles,  and  return  to  the  silent 
mine  of  thought. 

He  who  is  alive  to  all,  and  can  express  all,  unites  all 
excellences  of  conversation.  He  is  all  things  to  all  men, 
because  he  contains  all,  and  his  society  is  a  fairy  land, 
where  each  finds  what  he  seeks. 

Nearly  the  same  training  will  secure  the  power  of  con- 
versing and  of  writing  well  ;  and  both  are  far  more  in  our 
power  than  we  suppose.  I  speak  now  chiefly  of  the  latter, 
which  beside  the  requisites  for  conversation  requires  the 
power  of  concentrating  thought. 

Savages,  and  children  under  little  restraint,  generally  pos- 
sess eloquence  and  ease  of  expression  :  and  children  should 
be  encouraged  to  speak  naturally  and  freely  of  all  they  see, 
think,  and  feel.  Thus  their  conversation  will  be  what  it 
should  be,  the  perfect  reflection  of  all  objects,  colored  by 
the  individual  soul ;  or  rather  the  soul's  myrrh  and  incense, 
its  fruit  and  flowers,  elaborated  from  the  crude  materials  it 
has  imbibed. 

They  should  utter  every  emotion  ;  they  should  make 
inquiries  to  the  purpose,  state  their  difficulties  clearly,  and 
strive  always  to  express  precisely  what  they  mean.  We 
11* 


126 

are  too  indulgent  to  them  in  this  respect.  We  are  afraid 
to  check  their  confidence,  and  are  so  glad  to  have  them  use 
their  powers,  that  we  are  satisfied  with  very  imperfect 
execution.  I  do  not  quite  agree  with  Dr.  Johnson  that 
if  a  boy  saw  a  thing  out  of  one  window,  and  said  he  saw  it 
out  of  another,  he  should  be  whipped ;  but  I  do  think  the 
habit  of  describing  accurately  would  be  cheaply  purchased 
by  many  whippings. 

I  read  anecdotes  from  biography  and  mythology,  apo- 
logues, fables,  traits  of  heroism  and  generosity,  and  accustom 
the  children  to  draw  from  each  a  moral.  The  next  day 
they  are  repeated  by  the  little  girls,  and  written  by  the  older 
ones. 

Meanwhile,  the  little  girls  are  acquiring  ease  in  hand- 
writing, by  making  new  sentences  from  their  French  and 
Latin  words  ;  by  writing  down  verbs  through  all  their 
moods  ;  and  by  the  other  exercises  I  have  mentioned. 

When  they  can  write  without  undue  anxiety  concerning 
spelling,  punctuation,  blots,  and  all  minor  troubles,  they 
write  descriptions  of  simple  objects,  such  as  bellows,  spec- 
tacles, carriages  ;  mention  their  materials,  and  construction, 
and  uses.  They  describe  buildings  and  gardens,  or  rides 
they  have  taken.  They  write  imaginary  journeys,  de- 
scribing the  people,  customs,  and  scenery.  Of  course  they 
consult  books  for  these  descriptions,  but  do  not  copy  them. 
They  write  recollections  of  what  they  have  read  or  heard 
during  the  week,  translations,  and  turn  blank  verse  into 
prose. 

Some  new  thought  is  thus  elicited  ;  but  I  never  require 
any  thing  original  until  the  age  of  fourteen.  At  this  age, 
the  mind  can  generally  fix  itself  on  a  subject,  consider  some 
of  its  bearings,  and  treat  it  clearly.  At  first,  I  give  some 
hints,  if  they  are  very  much  desired  by  the  children  ;  but  as 
soon  as  possible,  I  withdraw  all  leadings  :  for  I  wish  not  to 
impress  myself,  but  to  bring  out  their  individuality.  I  let 
them  choose  their  own  subjects,  if  they  are  suggestive,  and 
not  exclusively  of  one  cast. 

I  have  now  brought  them  to  the  age  of  fourteen  ;  let  me 
tell  you  of  what  they  will  then  be  capable. 

Their  geography,  grammar,  and  all  elementary  studies, 


127 

may  now  be  laid  aside.  They  are  good  arithmeticians, 
and  know  something  of  algebra  and  geometry.  They  can 
read  French,  easy  German  books,  and  Virgil,  so  as  to  en- 
joy it.  I  should  not  give  Virgil  at  an  earlier  age.  In  all 
languages  I  give  many  easy  books,  and  proceed  gradually 
to  those  more  difficult.  Some  teachers  make  a  point  of 
having  each  book  more  difficult  than  that  which  pre- 
ceded ;  and  if  the  time  be  short  and  limited,  and  the 
pupil  is  to  be  fitted  for  particular  books,  this  must  be 
done.  Parents  often  think  variety  in  books  needless ;  the 
time  given  to  languages  is  short,  and  the  pupil  wishes  to 
read  the  most  celebrated  and  difficult  authors.  But  this 
is  not  the  way  we  teach  English.  We  do  not  use  Mrs. 
Trimmer  and  Goldsmith  and  Rasselas  in  quick  succession. 
We  give  many  authors,  varying  in  style,  and  alike  easy, 
before  presenting  an  obscure  or  concise  one. 

All  difficult  study  of  languages  is  now  over.  Italian  may 
be  added  whenever  convenient  ;  generally  not  till  the 
pupil  has  finished  reading  Latin,  because  three  languages 
at  a  time  are  quite  enough.  I  should  have  long  lessons 
learned,  more  than  could  be  recited,  so  that  some  know- 
led^e  of  the  literature  should  be  obtained  as  well  as  of  the 

o 

language. 

Algebra  and  geometry  should  now  be  studied  faithfully  : 
and  the  sciences  taken  up  one  at  a  time,  and  studied  from 
the  best  authors,  and  many  books  relating  to  each  read. 
A  few  months  given  to  each  science,  would  make  the  uni- 
verse richer  and  more  significant  during  the  whole  life. 

In  history,  I  would  have  long  lessons  and  finished  recita- 
tions, and  occasionally  written  abstracts  of  particular  occur- 
rences or  characters.  History  and  biography  are  however 
rather  for  the  closet  than  the  school ;  it  requires  extensive 
reading  to  seize  the  connexion  of  events,  and  remember 
persons  and  events.  One  must  know  a  great  deal  of  history 
to  enjoy  it  fully  or  to  remember  it  well. 

And  now,  my  dear  Mary,  I  have  given  you  my  ideas  as 
fully  as  lean.  You  know  I  brought  to  the  task  the  thoughts 
of  a  life,  but  the  practical  experience  of  only  one  year ; 
and  this  must  excuse  what  is  crude  or  omitted  in  what  I 


128 

have  written.  If  Experience  does  for  me  what  I  expect 
from  her,  I  may  some  day  send  you  something  more  com- 
plete than  these  gropings ;  my  only  wish  while  writing 
this  has  been,  that  some  one  of  more  powerful  grasp  and 
wider  experience  would  write  it  for  me.  But  it  is  a  wise 
Providence  which  compels  us  to  think  for  ourselves.  None 
but  ourselves  can  draw  down  to  our  individual  circum- 
stances, the  light  of  Eternal  Truth. 


- 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

AT 

LOS^ANGELES 
LffiRARY 


SEP  21  1878 


A     000162937     7 


*4< 


> 

-  7  '       *~+ 


